Copra Cabana
by CSI Clue
Summary: After an accident, Tony and Pepper find themselves depending on each other in a way they never expected.
1. Chapter 1

**He mahi kai te taonga **

Survival is the treasured goal.

Maori proverb

Prolog

The island had no name.

Before the 1800s; few travelers wanted to settle on it since the only landing on it was through a treacherously narrow passage on the east side of the rocky volcanic cliffs that formed the rest of the land. Other islands had easier access and greater proximity to the trade routes and Sub Pacific gyres, so for hundreds of years the little island with its volcanic freshwater spring and bowl shape was visited only by birds as the years passed.

Wildlife made its way to the island in the gradual fashion of luck, migration and accident; monsoon survivors drifting from other islands or the occasional shipwreck added a few new species over the years. In the century when masted ships crossed the ocean, the island gained a name on a few maps: Mota. It was a name shared with several hundred other islands in the general vicinity, and early cartographers did little to differentiate this one from the other small atolls across the Pacific. Even later mapmakers did little more; merely adding a number and listing it as Mota 1108.

When steam-powered ships began to chug across the ocean, bringing modern ways to ancient civilizations throughout the South Seas, Mota 1108 was briefly explored and exploited for coconut farming. The Von Dressel family of Austria bought the island along with several others, and in optimistic hope of establishing a thriving commercial venture, built a small plantation there, including a limestone house and several drying bins carved out of the volcanic rock. But between the typhoons which destroyed the crops and Spanish Influenza which killed off the workers, the enterprise died a quiet little death, and once again the island was uninhabited.

Even through World War II, Mota 1108 was bypassed by both the Axis and Allied forces: it was too small, too difficult to access, remote and of no strategic value. While other islands were utilized, inhabited and eventually developed, Mota 1108 sat in tropical glory for decades, forgotten by everyone.

Until--

*** *** ***

Chapter One

In hindsight, maybe taking the jet through the storm was a bad idea. A spectacularly bad idea, actually, but then again Tony knew he was noted for those. Usually he got lucky in that inverse way engineers do: the worse an idea sounds at first speculation, the better it becomes when instigated. A tried and true principal.

Not this time.

He had no clue that Pepper could still look cute when hurking up her lunch, or that she could do it so damned neatly. There they were, bouncing around in the main cabin, putting the seatbelts through a good workout when she hastily picked up one of the gift bags from the Ambassador of Singapore and daintily vomited into it.

"Yeah I didn't like that carving either," he told her, just to make her feel better. The two of them were going through more ups and downs than a rollercoaster, and Tony felt a disquieting vibration in the cabin that worried him. Mentally he calculated the stressors on the welding and wasn't sure his money should have been on the metal over the typhoon. He was glad he'd sent the Suit homeward on a different flight, now.

"Tony, this is in-SANE!" Pepper moaned at him as she wiped her lips with a tissue, she was so pale that Tony could see every freckle clearly, even in the low lighting. "Can't we go higher, *over* this storm?"

"Let me check," he told her. Joe had assured Tony prior to take-off that he could get the Lear through it in one piece, and back on the ground Stark had faith in the pilot, but at *this* point it felt like Joe had miscalculated badly, and that the three of them were going to crap out in the Earhart Lottery. Tony undid his belt and scrambled towards the cockpit, guiltily glad to be away from the stink in the gift bag, and yanked on the door.

Joe Mueller looked busy. REALLY busy with his hands gripped tightly on the controls trying to keep the jet stable. Tony didn't want to interrupt him, but he had to know so he asked, "We gonna live through this?"

"Trying, Mr. Stark, although we may have to—"

There was a serious shriek of ripping metal right then and the jet lurched sideways, tipping to forty-two degrees. All around them clutter fell and clattered towards the lower side.

"Christ! Okay, now we DEFINITELY have to ditch!" Joe bellowed. "You two get ready for a water landing!"

Tony couldn't reply for a second since coppery panic had his mouth sand-dry and his balls yanked up nice and snug.

Pepper. He had to get back to Pepper. Frantically, Tony turned and clambered back to the main cabin, trying to remember where the emergency raft was. He'd flown in this jet for years; he should *know* where the damned thing was---

He didn't see her at first, and a further surge of panic hit Tony hard. "Pepper!" he bellowed. The lights were flickering now, and the sickeningly swift descent was making his ears hurt as the cabin pressure fluctuated. "Pepper!"

"I'm here!" she yelled back from the little hallway leading to the suite. Tony noted she was struggling with a closet door, pulling bright yellow life vests out. He quickly made his way towards her, stepping amid the clutter, reaching Pepper just as the plane gave another deep lurch.

Her heels gave her no stability, and Pepper cursed, gripping the edge of the emergency closet, her ponytail whipping around her pale face. Tony lurched towards, her, trying to brace her against the wall with his own torso, but a sudden twist of the plane threw her against him, knocking the breath out of Tony's body as her elbow jabbed his solar plexus.

"Jacket!" Pepper ordered, thrusting one of the vests at him. Tony fought to catch his breath, looped his right arm through it, then grabbed her as well, hooking his grip around her waist. Pepper tugged on something else in the closet, and yelled again, her voice bright with controlled panic. "Raft! We need to get to the hatch!"

Tony understood and scrambled with her towards the rear door of the plane. Together he and Pepper began to turn the wheel that sealed the cabin, releasing the remaining pressure with a menacing hiss.

That was the last thing Tony remembered for a long time.

*** *** ***

Pepper's head hurt. A lot. She opened her eyes to find herself lying on her side in wet sand, with the glare of bright sunshine nearly blinding her. Struggling to sit up, she fought back terror and twisted, looking around wildly, trying to figure out where the hell she was.

Sand. Trees. Beach. Water. Scattered around her in the shallow water were wet clumps of nylon, floating luggage and a string of yellow life vests; in a rush of adrenaline Pepper remembered the storm and the crash.

She let out a pained moan, curling up tightly and rocking for a moment, overwhelmed by the fight or flight response tensing hard through her entire body. How long Pepper sat in the tide pool she didn't know, but gradually she relaxed a little, the warmth of the sun beginning to dry her shirt and hair. It wasn't quiet; the breeze ruffled the trees behind her, there were bird cries, and out in the distance Pepper could hear the roll of the surf somewhere.

But it was peaceful, and that helped.

"Tony," she whispered to herself, sparking a shuddering moment of hot tears. Gradually, Pepper savagely wiped them away from her face and drew in a breath, looking around, moving her gaze from right to left.

She was on the edge of a lagoon of some sort; a wide semicircle of blue water ringed with fine white sand and behind it, thick jungle foliage. The sun was high and bright; the sky cloudless. All along the edge of the lagoon she saw wreckage and knew she was looking at the remains of the Lear scattered along the sand, with darker, bigger pieces out in deeper part of the lagoon. Pepper got to her feet and assessed herself as she tried to brush wet sand off. No broken bones, lots of bruises though, and her head pounded with a painful throb that told her she probably had a mild concussion.

Gingerly Pepper felt the side of her head and found the tender lump just over her left ear, wincing a bit when she touched it. Other than the blurriness and headache, she seemed fine, although her suit was ruined, and one shoe was gone. Pepper absently pulled her ponytail holder out and fixed her hair, then kicked off her one remaining high heel.

"Okay, get it together, here—what to do first?" she asked herself.

_Find Tony_, Pepper thought immediately.

She patted her pocket, mourning the loss of her small, electronic friend, and then moved towards the water, fishing out a bobbing suitcase, recognizing it as one of Tony's. Pepper set it up out of the water, then looked around again. The majority of the debris was off to her right, and grimly she began moving that way, hoping to find either Tony or Joe—

--And worried that she would.

The curve of the lagoon was wide, and Pepper strode along just above the tiny waves, where the sand was firm. Walking felt good; it had purpose and she might have enjoyed it if she hadn't been so worried. Flashes of information ran through her head, little clips of what Pepper knew about survival training. She knew she needed to find drinkable water, and get out of the sun soon, but those could wait for a while.

The glare was making her squint, along with the tears that kept slipping out.

She was scared and hurt and now she was getting angry. Good and angry. How Tony had managed to talk her into flight anyway?

_With his damned charm_, Pepper told herself bitterly. _As always_.

She'd been working for Anthony Stark for years and still had no real immunity to that sweet, wheedling tone and those big puppy eyes that he used shamelessly to get his way.

It had been a working vacation, this trip to Southeast Asia, and even though she'd managed to get some sightseeing and shopping in, the bulk of it was taken up with meetings and merger discussions that ran from midmorning until midnight most days. Tony had worked her hard, sure, but he'd pushed himself harder, and consequently by the end of the last meeting in the Philippines, both of them were eager to get home.

"A quick flight to Hawaii, then home," he'd promised her. "Come on, Potts—I've got a craving for good old American beer."

Then came the typhoon warning, and Joe's assurance on take-off that it would be far to the south of them . . .

As she rounded an outcropping of dark volcanic rock along the waterline, Pepper stopped, drawing in a sharp breath. She'd nearly stepped on a hand. Scooting back she almost tripped, and braced herself against the huge rock as she looked down.

Tony.

He was very still.

He lay sprawled on his back, hair wet and curly, one arm twisted; tangled in one of the life vests and what looked like the tablecloth from the dining booth in the jet.

Pepper whimpered; he was so pale. The arc glowed through where his wet shirt clung, and she noted blood trickling from a scrape along his nose.

Blood.

Blood flowing meant still alive, she realized, and Pepper dropped to her knees, touching him. "Tony!" she whispered, shaking him lightly, and then a little harder. "Tony!"

"Shhhiiiiiitttttttttttt!" came the low, pain-filled mumble. "Love you Potts, but don't *do* that again, okay?"

She fought the urge to smack him, her relief in finding Tony alive in immediate conflict with the desire to take her frustrations out on him right NOW.

_Business as usual_, Pepper told herself as she brushed his bangs back. Tony gave another groan, interrupting her thoughts, and tried to sit up. "Ohhhh not good. Got a problem here."

Pepper looked him over and realized what it was even as he struggled. His right arm hung oddly, the angle unnatural. "You've got a dislocated shoulder."

"Oh goody," he hissed, trying to sound brave. "I always wanted one of those. Hurts like a sonofabitch."

"I . . ." Pepper hesitated, running a gentle touch over his chest. "I can reset it, but it's going to hurt a bit more, Tony."

*** *** ***

He stared up at her, trying not to look as alarmed as he felt inside. Just *seeing* Pepper, alive and whole, was helping calm things a bit, and Tony took in a deep breath, which was a mistake. It made his chest hurt and he coughed.

That didn't help either. The ache all along his shoulder and chest was stabbed through with bright, hot twinges of deep pain now, and he gritted his teeth. "They teach you that in Personal Assistant school do they?"

"No," Pepper replied, not rising to the sarcasm. "My brother wrestled in high school, and it used to happen to him a lot. He taught me how to pop it back into place."

"Really?" Tony blinked, as startled by the idea of Pepper having a brother as much as the concept of her actually *twisting* an arm back into a socket.

Pepper nodded, and he noted that her hair was tidy.

"How do you DO that?" Tony demanded weakly. "I mean, we have JUST come through a crash landing in the middle of God knows where and you look like you're ready to step into a board room."

"Trade secret," she murmured with a flash of facetiousness that quickly faded. "I'm serious, Mr. Stark, this *will* hurt, but I'll try to be as quick as I can, okay?"

"Go for it," Tony shot back, feeling a wave of nausea, "because I'm not going to be able to do jack shit until it's back in place anyway, right?"

"Pretty much," Pepper agreed, and then hesitated.

"What?" Tony demanded, feeling impatient now. "Just do it . . . whatever it is."

"Usually I do this up against the wall—"

"—kinky, Potts. I like kinky."

"Hush. The ground will do, but . . ." Pepper shot him a no-nonsense look and Tony felt better immediately. "You need to not . . . distract me."

"Shutting up now," Tony groaned. Pepper pushed him back down, then startled the hell out of him by tugging up her skirt a bit, and straddling his waist. He felt her settle above his belt line, and Tony looked down, catching a sweet glimpse of panty before she leaned forward, glaring at him.

"I *can* make this a LOT more painful," Pepper assured him, her mouth in a straight line.

Tony closed his eyes. "Pure reflex, I swear. I didn't see anything at all."

"Lie still and let me do all the work."

"You keep giving me these lines," Tony complained, "And *then* you expect me to behave."

"Tony," Pepper sighed. "We're in a very bad situation right now, and I know this is just your way of whistling in the dark, but please, please, PLEASE just let me get this done, okay?"

Her voice was soft and high, holding back frustration and fear; Tony gave a nod and stayed quiet. He felt Pepper take his arm and bend the elbow to a ninety degree angle. Then she started rotating the entire arm outward, pushing steadily.

That hurt.

Then it hurt a whole fucking LOT, and he fought down more nausea as the pain seared through every nerve from his shoulder to his fingertips. "FUCK!"

"I know, I know, just a little more . . ." she soothed, and with one last twist, they both heard the 'pop' as the joint clicked back into the socket. Tony gave a huge sigh, slumping back into the sand, tension draining from him in a rush of relief.

"Okay, first of all, thank you. Second of all, NOT doing that again, EV-ER."

"I know it hurts," Pepper empathized quietly. "And it's going to ache for a few days. If we find any ibuprofen I'll make sure you take some."

"I want four," Tony grumbled. Pepper's weight on him was damned nice, and he hoped she wouldn't move for a moment. "Washed down with a gallon of Evian."

"Yes, water—that's something we're going to need too," she murmured absently. Then her position seemed to dawn on Pepper and she scrambled off of him, crunching away into the sand on her butt, pulling her knees together.

Tony made no move to rise or even sit up. He turned his head to look at her and sighed. "So . . . preliminary assessment, Potts. What are we looking at?"

He sensed the best way to keep them both from panicking would be to keep things professional for the moment. Pepper worked best under fire, and if he could just channel her energy into dealing with their immediate situation, it might give them both the edge in surviving.

She absently brushed a hand across her bangs. "Um, we're both physically okay . . . we're going to need water and shelter in the next couple of hours, and then probably food and some sort of signal for anyone searching for us. And we need to look for Joe Mueller of course."

Tony slowly climbed to his feet, rolling to his left side to do it. He looked around intently, taking in the entire panorama. "We don't have a lot of time. Tell me, what's wrong with our picture here, Pepper?" He held out his good arm, and pulled her to her feet in one efficient tug.

Startled by his grim tone, she glanced up and blinked, thinking hard. "It's not raining?" came her guess.

Tony nodded. "Exactly. We're probably in the eye of the storm, and that means we're going to get hit with a second round pretty quick." He turned to Pepper, reaching awkwardly to cup her shoulders, concerned. "Are you *sure* you're okay?"

He looked at her from head to feet as he asked. Pepper's suit jacket and shoes were gone, and the sleeves of her blouse were ripped. Pepper had a big dark bruise blooming along her chin and she was blinking a lot as well, but she managed a small smile. "Headache, but I'll be fine. I'm . . . really glad you're alive."

The choke in her voice left him hungry to hug her, but Tony settled for squeezing her thin shoulders instead, aware that they were both still in shock to some degree. However, there was no time to do anything else but move forward, so he nodded, and made his way down to the water, splashing some on his face. "Okay, let's take a look at the wreckage and see what we can salvage. That seems like the best first step."

He slowly trotted off, Pepper next to him as they began trekking along the edge of the lagoon towards a large section of jet that had ploughed up a deep trough in the sand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Waiho i te toipoto, kaua i te toiroa **

'Let us keep close together, not far apart.'

Maori proverb

Chapter Two

Long didn't begin to cover the day, Pepper thought wearily. Neither she nor Tony had anything between them that told time, but simple body-clock estimation was good enough, and looking up, she guessed that it was probably about three in the afternoon.

The skies were clouding over, and the breeze was stiffer; cooler. She glanced around briefly, hoping the rain would hold off just a while longer, and carefully, Pepper went back to sorting out the supplies that Tony kept bringing up from the beach. She was sitting next to the back third of the jet which was wedged between a pair of coconut trees forming a temporary shelter. It was more of a room with a raised floor than anything else, but it was *something* and Pepper was glad the locker in the wall still had emergency blankets in it.

She was glad, actually, to have something to DO. She and Tony had found the tail section early, and making it their shelter was both practical and comforting. Then Tony insisted on hauling up whatever could be salvaged from the beach, reminding her that getting it before the second wall of the storm hit was their best insurance on keeping it. Pepper had helped him until Tony pointed out she needed to get out of the direct sun.

"You're red already Potts. Stay put and I'll call you if I need help hauling anything."

She'd reluctantly followed his directive, seeing the sense in it even as she cleaned up the tail section and had begun the inventory.

"More clothes," Tony groused, tossing a handful of wet shirts across a bush as he came up. "How many suitcases were on the plane?"

"Ten," Pepper reminded him. "Eight of yours, two of mine. I guess there could have been more if Joe had anything packed. Oh, and all the gifts and souvenirs."

"I think our haul proves one unhappy truth," Tony sighed.

"What's that?"

"Crap floats," he groused, coming to sit down on one of the emergency lockers. "Take a note, Miss Potts; for our next Lear, I want more tents and chemical toilets."

"Noted, Mr. Stark," she murmured, tongue firmly in cheek. "Do you want to hear the inventory so far?"

"Sure," he sighed, and rubbed his clearly aching shoulder, "what have we got?"

All right, starting with consumables, we currently we have ten twenty four ounce bottles of water, six bottles of white wine, a large plastic bin full of sliced cheddar and salami and two packs of sugarless gum."

"A veritable feast," Tony mumbled. "That's it? I thought we had frozen dinners and honey roasted peanuts."

"Those went down with the galley I guess," Pepper sighed, "and I wouldn't trust a frozen dinner to last too long in this heat. Not even sure the salami will."

"We should polish that off first then," Tony pointed out. "What else do we have?"

She checked the list. "Shelter. We have this section of the plane with the sleeping cabin, although how secure it's going to be without the door is . . . debatable."

Tony glanced up at the skies. "We could cover it with palm fronds. It wouldn't be much, but it will keep the rain from blowing in."

Pepper nodded. "Agreed. And we have the tablecloth. We could tie that to the edges and pin it to the ground with rocks. There are a few holes in it, but nothing too big. If we lay the fronds over them, it should help." She noted Tony's expression; a mix of approval and admiration, and it warmed her to see that he appreciated the basic design.

"That's good. What else do we have in our favor? Matches? A Duraflame log?"

That made her laugh. "Hardly, Tony—FAA regulations and all. From the locker, we have a two first aid kits, a pair of foil blankets, and several changes of clothing . . . for YOU, anyway," she couldn't help grumbling.

"I'll share," Tony shot back, bemused. "You're always complaining I bring too many suitcases anyway."

"And I'm right, but at least you'll have clean boxers for a week."

"Hallelujah," he grinned. "That's definitely a weight off my mind. How about you?"

"I'll manage," she replied, almost primly, trying to avoid his smirk.

It didn't help that they would be holed up together on a full sized mattress in a matter of hours; Pepper had been doing her best to avoid thinking about what was sure to be an already difficult situation.

She wasn't afraid of Tony; years of working for him had given her some insight into the man and under his public persona he was a good person, although prone to mercurial moods and self-destructive tendencies. And now that he was back from Afghanistan, saving the world as Iron Man, Tony Stark had found some sense of mission. Some commitment.

No, what Pepper was afraid of was herself. Of overstepping that careful line she'd drawn between them from day one; the line that kept them as employer and employee.

Not that the line was all that straight to begin with, or that solid. Pepper knew she and Tony were closer than other people who worked together; for God's sake, she'd seen him drunk and naked and stoned, sometimes all three at the same time, and for a few years there, it seemed there wasn't a vice under the sun that he wasn't willing to try.

But Pepper knew too, that Tony *was* a good man. Not because of his power and wealth, which was what a lot of women zeroed in on, but because of his brilliance and carefully hidden decency. He was, under his playboy, shallow exterior, a caring, kind-hearted man, and why he chose to keep that from the public, Pepper never understood.

And he was handsome, in a compact, intense way, she admitted to herself once in a while. Charming. Raffish. Playful. All the things that made him dangerous, and off-limits in terms of personal involvement.

She bit back a sigh and looked out towards the water again.

*** *** ***

He was worried. Tony didn't like the way the wind was whipping up again. Fortunately the open door of the jet faced towards the interior of the island, so with luck they'd be protected from much of the rain, but it was getting dark fast, and there was still a lot to do.

His arm ached, but Tony ignored it and kept bringing debris up from the waterline, carrying what he could, dragging what he couldn't. None of it looked valuable, but the engineer in him kept nagging that pieces were useful and that he'd find something he could make from them. Part of it was about being practical, and part of it was about surviving.

Tony knew about surviving.

But he was pretty sure Pepper didn't, and he wasn't about to lose her. Not a chance, because she had his back, and he could count on her, and because she was . . . well, she was a lot more than he deserved, even these days.

Pepper Potts was *the* woman in his life, Tony knew; the constant, the anchor, the north star who held her position so he could fly where he needed to and get back in one piece.

Current situation excepted, of course.

Tony wondered if panic was making him wax poetic, and if he should concentrate more on hauling wreckage. He redoubled his efforts, and spotted yet another drifting suitcase, and waded out to fetch it, dragging it up to the sand. He didn't recognize it, and guessed it was probably Pepper's.

A blackish lump half-buried in the sand turned out to be a nylon duffel bag with the Stark Industries logo on it. Curious, Tony struggled to unzip it, and peeked inside, feeling a surge of delight at the sight of a tool box, nylon line and several pylons in it—one of the Lear maintenance bags. This was probably the most valuable find yet, and Tony yanked on the strap, thrilled.

"Potts! Get down here!" he bellowed, and even over the wind his voice carried enough that Pepper came out from the trees, looking for him. Barefoot, she ran lightly in his direction; Tony admired her grace for a moment, then turned back to tugging on the bag. When Pepper reached him, she smiled at the sight of her own suitcase.

"That looks familiar," came her out-of-breath chuff.

"Yeah, but *this* is what's gonna save us," Tony predicted, and gestured to the duffle bag. "Come on, we've got to get this one unburied and up to the plane."

Together they uncovered the rest of it, Pepper digging while Tony pulled. Grudgingly the wet sand gave up her treasure, and Tony whooped with joy, dragging the bag along the beach. Pepper took the handle of her suitcase and followed, even as the first drops of rain began to spatter the sand.

In the dim shelter of the cabin, they sat on the edge of the bed and ate while the rain began to fall. Pepper had pointed out that it wouldn't do any good to try and save the salami or cheese, and Tony agreed. They split one of the bottled waters to wash it down, and Tony was amused to see that Pepper kept wiping the mouth of the bottle before she sipped it.

He glanced out the tiny window and cleared his throat, not wanting to bring up the other aspect of digestion, but feeling he had to. "And we're going to need a, um, mutually agreed upon latrine area."

Pepper looked supremely embarrassed. "Yes, I know. For now, I figured the other side of the cabin will do, and later, after the storm we can make . . . other arrangements."

"We didn't salvage any toilet paper, huh?" Tony muttered wistfully. "because *that* would have been a godsend."

"Nnnno," Pepper replied softly. "The Charmin went down with the ship."

He laughed; trust Pepper to be able to put a humorous spin on it, even though the reality wasn't going to be a laugh at all. "Fine. Although with my luck, there's some tropical version of poison ivy out there just waiting for my ass."

"Tony!" But she was smirking through her chide, and he liked the way she blushed. Not that he could see it too clearly; the cabin was getting dark now, and neither he nor Pepper had found any flashlights.

He stood up, stretched, and moved towards the door, looking out into the dark jungle. "Okay, so I guess it's time to start closing off this doorway as best we can, and getting some sleep. I just want you to know I'm not going to . . . you know. Take advantage of you or anything," Tony mumbled, feeling an uncharacteristic flush across his face. He wasn't used to apologizing for his reputation, or being blunt with Pepper this way, but Tony *did* want it said.

"I know you won't," Pepper agreed softly, rising up as well and handing him a few pain relievers. "But thank you for reassuring me."

''Yes, well . . . I'm not an obnoxious jerk *all* the time," came his abashed reply as he gulped down the tablets and turned to pick up the tablecloth. It was damp, with a deep rip along one side, and Tony thought it was quite possibly the flimsiest bit of protection he'd ever seen. "Unless we're being attacked by ketchup stains, I don't think this is going to cut it, Pepper."

"I had an idea about that," she murmured. "What about if after we pin it up, we stack all your suitcases in front of it?"

"Good thinking," Tony muttered, pleased to see that she'd applied the usual Potts efficiency to the problem. "Protected by Vuitton."

"Once we're rescued, I'm going to send the company a letter commending the durability of their products," Pepper replied, reaching up to help Tony tie the tablecloth to the topmost hinge of the door hatch. "And suggest they look into making flotation devices as a sideline."

Tony gave a short laugh, amused. "Not a bad suggestion, actually. Okay this is about as secure as it's going to get without duct tape. Where's MacGyver when you need him, huh?"

"Back in Malibu, enjoying his residuals," Pepper sighed. "How long will the storm last, do you think?"

Tony shook his head. "You got me—meteorology was never my strong point."

"I thought you'd picked up some of it from Jarvis, during all those missions," she teased him, and Tony smiled to hear it, enjoying a moment of normalcy in this oh-so-abnormal day.

"Nope. He usually pipes in reruns of _Firefly_ and only interrupts if something comes up."

"Oh Tony," Pepper laughed.

*** *** ***

She could hear the wind howling, and the sound of it was eerie, especially in the dark. The unknown dark. Along with the wind, the flapping of the tablecloth and the constant murmur of the waves made it noisier than she was used to, and Pepper wished she could unclench a bit.

Tony was asleep, and for a moment Pepper resented his ability to slumber away in the wail of the wind. He lay on his stomach, softly snoring, a big warm lump in his Mylar blanket, radiating heat. She had no idea he was so efficient at maintaining a core temperature, and it was a nice sensation to share a mattress . . .

Especially with Tony, Pepper admitted to herself. Over the years she'd experienced an occasional hug, and steered his unsteady form along when he was drunk or wasted, so she had always known he was definitely male; heavy, warm-scented and fundamentally desirable.

Now, lying next to him in the dark, Pepper felt a mingling of emotions too muddled to name clearly. Gratitude was there, certainly; she was *so* damned glad he was alive after the crash. Comfort too—having his familiar, if somewhat stronger than usual scent nearby did a lot to help her feel safe. Not that Tony could protect her from everything, Pepper knew, but he'd try.

And deeper, under that, in the _don'tGOthere_ level of her mind, Pepper knew there was another emotion that was pushing to get out. A lean beast of feeling and sensation rising from the low throb that pulsed between her hips. The most primitive and basic desire driven by hormones, lust and awareness, goaded on by Tony's nearness, warmth and pheromone-loaded scent.

She fought it down, and rushing into the void came fear. Pepper knew it was coming; shock was like that, and all day she'd been holding off the blunt weight of what had happened. Knowing Joe Mueller was more than likely dead out there somewhere, and that she was miles from civilization, with limited hope of getting out, much less alive—

She fought a sob, not wanting, not *daring* to wake the man next to her. Pepper's jaw muscles ached as the hot tears leaked from her eyes, and she sniffed once to blink them away.

In his sleep, Tony turned. Pepper held still, but one of his arms slumped across her stomach, resting heavily there, pinning her under its weight. He made a contented sound—as if the act of claiming her pleased him, and just like that, Pepper felt the hard knots all along her body begin to relax. The touch of Tony; that arm in contact with her held some inner capacity to soothe, and Pepper sighed glad to feel it there, warm and strong.

"Thank you," she mouthed silently to the ceiling, and began to fall asleep.

Without sunshine, it was hard to gauge time passing, and the grey light through the cabin window and around the edges of the suitcase-blocked tablecloth didn't help either. The cabin itself was small, with the bed taking up most of the room, so they lounged on it, talking sometimes, silent at other times.

Rescue efforts would be delayed by the storm, Tony had pointed out, and although Jarvis would relay their last known position to the appropriate authorities, that would only happen *after* they'd been reported missing, which may or may not have happened yet.

To pass some of the time, Pepper inventoried the contents of each suitcase, shifting the items within them into logical categories: shirts (8) in one, pants and boxers (6) into another.

"How did you end up with more shirts than underwear—wait, don't tell me, I really don't want to know," Pepper murmured to Tony, who snickered.

Other items were harder to classify, but had some potential to them: A slightly water-logged guidebook to the Philippines, some socks, ear buds for an iPod, nail clippers.

And then there was her *one* suitcase, and Pepper knew what it would contain. She mentally sighed as she opened it, aware of Tony peering in over her shoulder.

"My, my. Looks like you *do* have something to wear," Tony murmured, his tone smug. Pepper wanted to smack him as she picked up the shortie nightgown and set it aside. Under it were a few bras and panties—cotton, thank God—and what she had hoped she'd packed . . .

Triumphantly Pepper pulled out her Teva sandals, grinning. "Yes!"

"And here I was, hoping for some of those killer stilettos."

"Yes, they'd be *so* much better for running on the beach," Pepper murmured, bending to slip the sandals on and strap them securely. It felt good to have footwear again, and she waggled her toes.

Tony laughed. "Anything else interesting in here?" He began to paw around, and Pepper smacked his hand. Tony pulled it back and rubbed it, scowling a little. "For the record, you're *mean,* Potts."

"For the record, I'm entitled to a little privacy."

"In *this* cabin, a little is all either of us is going to get," Tony pointed out. "And it's not as if you've got anything to hide . . ." he trailed off, throwing her an inquisitive look. Pepper shot him her driest look in return; quite a feat in the midst of the rain rattling all around them outside.

"Fine. Lotion—" she pulled out a bottle of Lavender Silk and waggled it at Tony. "And a few disposable razors, and . . . a book."

Pepper knew Tony caught her hesitation because he kept his gaze on her. "What's the book?"

"Nothing important," she replied, hoping to bluff him, but Tony held his gaze and she felt her face flush a little. "Just something I was reading in my few and far between free moments."

"And the title of this magnificent tome is--?"

Pepper gave up, and sighed. "_Moonlight's Sweet Savage Surrender."_

For a moment, Tony froze, his incredulous expression unable to take in the title, then he very carefully bit his lips hard, smothering down the laughter that nevertheless escaped the corners of his mouth in puffs of mirth. His eyes were bright with tears, and Pepper longed to smack him.

Her palm *itched* to do it, in fact.

"Go ahead; laugh. I don't care," she chuffed. "Yes it's drivel and pure escapism and I *could* be reading something more intellectually challenging like _Pilgrim's Progress_ or _The Fountainhead_, but you know what? Sometimes I just need to lose myself in a story where nobody has to whip up a party in Dubai at the last minute, or set up conference calls with Tokyo, Cairo and Duluth, Tony. Sometimes, I deserve a chance to indulge in something mindless and fluffy."

"Yes, sure, of course you do," Tony managed, fighting hard to look serious and failing, utterly. "But it's so . . . unlike you that I'm having a hard time believing it. I mean seriously, Potts—lurid romance?"

"It's not lurid," she was quick to snap. "Lurid are those explicit websites you've got bookmarked as 'Hydraulic Suppliers' on your laptop."

Pepper didn't think Tony was *capable* of blushing, but clearly, she was wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ka mate käinga tahi, ka ora käinga rua **

_There is more than one way to achieve an objective._

Maori Proverb

Chapter Three

Tony blinked rapidly, feeling his face radiate more than his arc; it wasn't often that he found himself in the position of defending his privacy. "Those are ancient; haven't opened the file in months!"

"That's not the point, Mr. Stark," Pepper told him firmly, pulling her suitcase away. "What I'm trying to say is that everyone is entitled to their own . . . entertainments, all right? I go with Gwendolyn St. Lavender books, and you go with porn. Let's drop it, shall we?"

Glad of a distraction, Tony's eyebrows went up. "Gwendolyn St. Lavender? That's one seriously big-assed pseudonym. I mean, no one's really named St. Lavender, right?"

"I wouldn't know," Pepper sighed. "And right now it's a moot issue."

"Fine," Tony mumbled, "Whatever. Would have been nice if you'd packed say, a deck of cards."

"Yes, and it would have been nice if you and Joe hadn't decided that flying through a typhoon was a good idea!" she shot back, her exasperation having hit its limit.

There was no way to deny that, Tony knew, and he gave a great, gusty sigh. "Yes, okay, *that* was a crappy decision, I admit that freely, Miss Potts, and believe me, I'm fully aware that I'm responsible for his death, and very nearly yours and mine as well. I *know* that and I accept that blame, fully."

He did feel it; the truth of what had happened had haunted him through the hours in the dark when he couldn't sleep, and Tony accepted the pain.

Tony watched her anger shift to sorrow, and the urge to pull her into his arms returned, but she was already reaching into the suitcase again, busying herself with the contents. Tony understood it was her way; Pepper always turned to work when she was upset. It was one of the reasons Stark Industries had managed so well during his captivity.

Tony wished he could make an exit, and give them both some breathing room. He rubbed his aching shoulder, moved to the door and tugged part of the wet tablecloth back, staring out. "It's tapering off, I think."

"Good," came her quiet reply. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. I guess we're both feeling a little . . . cabin fever."

"Don't be," he told her, not looking over his shoulder. "I got us into this, and I'm going to get us out. That's a promise, Pepper."

Within an hour the sun was out, making every leaf glitter. The sand was pitted from the rain, and the air smelled wet and good. Tony opened the tool bag and beckoned Pepper over as he laid out the contents. A hacksaw, a screwdriver set, a box of assorted screws, several wrenches, rolls of wire, electrical tape rolls, an extension cord and a flexible measuring tape.

"How long is the rope?" Pepper asked, touching the orange nylon coiled line.

Tony eyed it, and hazarded a guess. "Looks like about a hundred yards, give or take."

"We could use it to explore, then," she pointed out. "Tie one end to a tree here by the cabin, and head out to look for water, because we're going to need some."

The brilliance of this idea made Tony grin, and he nodded. "You were a girl scout, weren't you Potts? Kumbaya, campfires, the whole nine yards?"

"All the way to Cadette, actually," Pepper confessed. "But I'm hard-pressed to apply some of it to our current predicament."

"The rope idea's a great one. Let's grab some coconuts first, and stockpile them around the cabin, though. I can probably get into them with the hacksaw, later."

Pepper saw the sense in that, and they moved along the beach, collecting the nuts. Some were green, some just going brown, and a few were cracked. There was more debris along the tide line too, and Tony was the first to hear the buzzing of flies as they approached a dark heap on the sand, surrounded by fallen palm fronds.

He stopped, and caught Pepper by her shoulders, turning her away. "Pepper--look *that* way, right now."

"What? Why—ohhhh . . ." she choked, jerking her gaze to the trees. Tony himself had to wait a few seconds to regain his composure before he could take in a deep breath and relax. He began to pull off his shirt.

"Tony—!"

He ignored her and moved towards the legless torso, his steps deliberate. Over his shoulder, he spoke to her, his voice flat and factual. "He needs . . . to be buried, Miss Potts. He was my employee; it's my duty. I want you to go back, and choose a tree to tie the rope to. I'll be back . . . when I'm done."

Tony waited; reluctantly Pepper began to stumble away through the sand, and when she was almost out of earshot, he moved to the broken torso tangled amid the waterlogged fronds.

It was hard to look at the bloated remains of what had been a friend. Joe Mueller had been a top-notch pilot; hired on Jim's recommendation. He'd taken to the Stark Lear immediately and had gotten Tony to whatever destination he wanted on-time over ninety percent of the flights.

Tony draped his shirt over the sightless eyes, and began to lay a few of the fronds out. He shifted the mangled body onto the palms, and slowly dragged the corpse up to the trees.

It took time to dig a grave by hand, and Tony cursed as he raked his fingers through the sandy soil, catching roots and hitting rocks. When it was deep enough, he nudged the body in, settling it gently before re-draping the shirt over Joe's pale battered face. "It's all my fault and I'm sorry," Tony murmured over the remains. "You got us—Pepper and me—down as safely as you could in the face of incredible odds, Joe. I won't ever forget that."

After a quiet prayer, Tony draped the fronds over the mounded sand of grave carefully and went down to the water to wash his hands, wondering—not for the first time-- if they would ever feel clean.

*** *** ***

Pepper cried. She did so silently, wiping her face often as she carried the rope to the palm right outside the cabin. Suddenly the unreality of the situation had cracked; seeing the corpse had done that in a hard and unavoidable way. Added onto that was the guilt of lashing into Tony. Yes it had been a bad decision, but Joe had been a part of it too, and everyone had assumed the typhoon was well south of them.

She sniffed one last time, and looked down at herself, feeling grimy in her torn blouse and wrinkled skirt. One hand drifted to her stringy hair, and she winced, speaking softly to herself. "You need to get it together. Find water, take a bath, and get some laundry going at the very least. Tony is never going to think of things like that, so it's up to you."

This was a slightly cheering thought; Pepper felt better with the familiarity of the task. Taking care of Tony was always time-consuming and would keep her mind off more depressing things, so she tied the rope end to the tree in a good snug double hitch at waist level. She collected the coconuts in a loose pile around the tree and absently sorted them by ripeness, the greens on one side and the browns on the other. By the time she'd finished with that, Tony was trudging back, looking slightly bleak.

Pepper managed a weak smile at him. "You did the right thing. Thank you, Tony."

"Don't try and make me feel better," he told her distantly. "It's my fault he's dead and I need to keep that in mind."

"Tony--" Pepper began, and then went silent. Tony awkwardly patted one of her shoulders and she knew he wasn't angry with her; just himself. She watched him move to look at the knot on the tree, his mouth turning up faintly. In the sunlight, Pepper noted his beard was thicker, and he had shadow along his cheeks from not shaving. He looked quite . . . scruffy.

"Nice hitch. Very secure. So—ready to go explore the jungle, Miss Potts? Or will you stay behind and play with coconuts?"

"Oh I'm going," she told him firmly. "You need someone to look out for you, Mr. Stark."

That made him grin, and Pepper felt better for it; Tony *did* have a devilishly cute grin at times. He nodded, then looked over at the tool box and selected the largest screwdriver in it, hefting it in his hand. "In lieu of a nice big machete," he sighed, "This will have to do, weapon-wise."

"Will we need a weapon?" Pepper asked timidly.

Tony shrugged. "Hope not, but I'd hate to have the regret if we end up in a bad situation. Okay—" He picked up the heavy coil of orange rope and looked into the leafy interior. "Straight line inward for our first venture?"

Pepper nodded; it seemed as good a direction as any. She picked up one of the water bottles, slipped it into one of the surviving gift bags and stepped behind Tony. "All right, Mr. Stark. I'm good to go."

"You always are, Miss Potts—one of your endearing charms," he told her over his shoulder. She bit back a smile and followed him into the jungle.

It was easy going at first; the line paid out behind them, and Tony warned her about little hills and dips underfoot. They pushed past more coconut trees, and after twenty feet, the bushes began to get thicker and scratchier. Ten minutes later, Pepper felt the buzz of mosquitoes, and whimpered a little, since malaria wasn't anything to look forward to. Ahead of her, Tony's undershirt clung to him, damp with sweat and humidity, and she focused on the muscles of his bare shoulders, finding them to be much more interesting than the foliage around them.

The ground began to slope downward, and Tony skittered a bit. He was in runners, so his traction was good, but even then he cursed a bit, and Pepper held back her giggles. Behind them, the orange of the rope stood out in bright relief against the greens and browns of the undergrowth.

"I hear something," Tony told her, when Pepper skittered down to the section of slope where he stood. They both froze, listening intently. Pepper caught it first, over the rustle of trees and the sound of birds.

The low rumble of water.

"I love the sound of that," Tony murmured. "It sounds . . . quenching."

"Let's keep going," Pepper urged, as visions of bathing, getting the salt out of her hair, WASHING danced in her head. Tony nodded, and they moved down the slope together, finding the easiest path.

A break in the trees gave them a clear view ahead, and the sound they'd heard before coalesced into the vision of a waterfall. The waterfall fell a good fifty to sixty feet in a lovely, scenic tableau, and the water basin they were in was probably a quarter of a mile across and thundering into a deep pool only a few more yards ahead. Tony grinned, and fed out more line, moving quickly now, Pepper right behind him, gleeful at the sight. The ledge was a few feet over the water, which was startlingly clear. Tony handed Pepper the coil of rope and bent down, scooping a handful of water up to his mouth.

He glanced up at Pepper, and swallowed. "Fresh."

"Yessssss," Pepper moaned, and began to sit on the ledge, preparing to slip into the water.

Tony blinked a little. "Potts? Are you okay?"

"Clean," she told him, and gingerly lowered herself, still dressed, into the water, her sandals reaching the sand underneath. Pepper gave a shiver; the water was cold, especially in the lower layers, but it felt wonderful, too, especially on her sunburned areas, and she ducked under before she lost her courage, pulling out her one scrunchie and raking her fingers through her hair.

She broke the surface to find Tony still on the ledge, looking down at her with awed amusement. "Cold?"

"Y-y-yes, but it feels so good!" Pepper assured him with a chatter-toothed smile. "C-c-come on in!"

*** *** ***

Tony fought the urge to grin. Actually he fought more than one urge; the water had made Pepper's shirt and lace bra wonderfully transparent, and the sight of her perky chest and ruckered nipples was almost more than he could cope with at the moment.

"Only if you turn around," he told her. Pepper was about to chide him when she realized her own appearance and gave a squeak. She spun in the water, and Tony *did* laugh then.

He couldn't help it, actually. The relief of finding water was a load off his mind—at the very least, they wouldn't die of dehydration. Tony pulled his sweat-soaked undershirt off and reached for his fly button, hesitating. "Potts—if I swam in boxers, would you respect me in the morning?"

"Who s-says I respect you *now?*" she chattered over her shoulder.

"Oh such a comedienne—" he grumbled, tickled at her tartness. He set the screwdriver down, slipped out of his shoe and the pants and sat on the ledge, sliding into the water, grimacing when the cold reached bits of him that did not need the shock. "Unnnngh---"

"Feeling the chill?" Pepper asked him, and ducked under the water before he could think of an appropriately biting reply. He held his breath and went all the way under himself, feeling the clean wash of the cold loosening the sand and salt from him.

It did feel good, Tony admitted a few moments later as he paddled a bit and looked around at the banks of the pool they were in. The water basin they were in was probably a quarter of a mile across—nothing huge, but if he had to guess the center depth, probably about twenty to forty feet . . . then he saw it.

Tony blinked, and then turned to find Pepper. She was standing in the shallows, scrubbing her face with what looked like a handful of sand. "Potts—what the hell are you doing?"

"Cleaning up," she informed him, and splashed water on her nose and cheeks, looking pink and happy. "Not my usual scrub, but it will do."

"Look over there," Tony pointed, "and tell me what you see."

"Trees," she responded wringing water out of her hair, "and rocks, and . . . a dock. A dock?"

"Looks like one to me too," Tony agreed thickly. "Not in great shape, but definitely man-made."

They were both silent for a stunned second.

"Oh God, there are people here?" Pepper demanded, her excitement rising visibly. "We've got to get over there, Tony!"

"No."

"What?" she turned, and he manfully kept his gaze on her face, even though his eyes wanted to wander lower and enjoy the cling of her wet blouse.

"Pepper, look at the condition of that dock—vines all over it, one of the pilings is tilting. That thing hasn't been used in decades, maybe even a century. Nobody is here but us. We can go check it out tomorrow, but we've got less than half a day of light left, and I want to try opening a coconut and getting a fire made. The dock can wait."

She wanted to protest; Tony could see her excitement at war with her common sense, but finally Pepper nodded, reluctantly. "Okay, yes, you have a point, Mr. Stark. We do have a few priorities."

"Good woman," he replied, still looking across the water to the dock. "Mind you, I could swim over there—"

"No!" Pepper almost shouted. She made a visible effort to calm herself, moving to put her hair back in the scrunchie. "No. You've had a dislocated shoulder; swimming that distance would be a really *bad* idea, Tony. Besides, you don't know what's over there. We'll go together, when we go."

She was being logical, and Tony grudgingly appreciated it, especially since he was nodding in agreement and ogling her at the same time. Pepper crossed her arms over her chest and shot him a glare. "Tony--!"

"I'd say I'm sorry, but we both know that would be a lie," he confessed unrepentantly, face now averted. "At least we've found water, and it's not too far away."

"We can refill the bottles," Pepper agreed. "I'm getting out now."

Tony followed her out, climbing onto the ledge and shaking his head to get the water out of his ears. He picked up the rope and began to recoil it, but Pepper stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Let's leave it and just follow it back for now," she urged. "I guess we'll wear away a trail after a while, but for now—"

"And *that,*" Tony smiled at her, "Is why I adore you, Miss Potts. Ever logical. Come on, let's go play with coconuts, because I don't know about you, but that salami was a long time ago."

She nodded ruefully, and with a last happy glance at the water, turned to move behind him up the slope and into the greenery, following the orange stripe on the ground.

*** *** ***

Pepper wanted to laugh. In the late afternoon, in the shadow of the palms, with the soft lapping of the small waves in the lagoon, the setting was nearly perfect—

Aside from Tony's cursing.

He knew a *lot* of bad language, and had an incredibly creative streak in combining threats, curses and general observations. Since he was directing all his vitriol at a coconut, Pepper was having a hard time holding in her mirth as she sat in the doorway of the cabin.

"Your amusement is not appreciated at this time, Potts," came the low grumble. "Think you can do any better?"

"Yes," she admitted, looking up from the _Guide to the Philippines_ and smiling. "There are lots of different ways to get into a coconut, according to this guide. The 'toss and crack' method for the green ones, and the peel and crack method for the ripe ones."

"Oh please," Tony rocked back on his heels and waved a hand sarcastically, "You're welcome to demonstrate, by all means."

Pepper set aside the book, and came over to where Tony was squatting. She picked up a football-sized green coconut, held it over her head, and looked around. The curved outer hull of the cabin caught her eye, and Pepper moved, hurling the coconut at the steel wall of the mangled plane section. The coconut hit cabin with a heavy 'thunk' and bounced away.

Tony hooted. "Brilliant. An amazing feat of engineering there---"

Pepper picked up the green nut and brushed the sand off; a large crack now ran down the length of it. She carefully carried it over, picked up the large screwdriver, and wedged it into the crack, prying it open. Water began to leak; Pepper quickly held the nut over the plastic bin that the salami had been in and let the coconut water drain out before continuing to pry. The edges widened and the nut cracked in three pieces, revealing pale soft meat within it.

Tony stared, his expression slightly stunned. Pepper broke off a piece of the meat and held it out to him. "Here."

Reluctantly he took the segment. Pepper waved a hand back at the book. "Also? If you use the hacksaw, use it at one end, especially with the brown coconuts because then you can pull the dried husk off of the nut in strips."

"*I* still found the water," Tony petulantly pointed out. "And I'm going to start the fire."

"Okay," Pepper placated him sweetly, feeling amused at his frustration. The coconut meat was good; fresh, almost jelly-like, and she finished her piece before she knew it. "Do you want me to get tinder and firewood?" she offered gently. Tony was making sincere efforts at comfort and she appreciated his attempts, truly, but Pepper was pretty sure that out of all the skills he had, jungle survival training wasn't one of them.

"That would be nice," Tony told her, his tone still slightly sulky. Pepper sighed inwardly and moved off, walking close to the foliage line and picking up fallen palm fronds, sticks and bits of coconut husks, leaving Tony to his pique.

It was a nice time of day, with the sun at a slant, and the shadows beginning to stretch out towards the lagoon. Pepper was more comfortable now in a pair of Tony's dark blue boxers, with a green Hawaiian shirt over them. Not the flashiest fashion, she knew, but at least he'd been willing to share, and the clothes were clean.

Pepper hummed to herself. Coconut was good, but realistically, the two of them were going to need more that those to live on, and from what she'd read in the guide, there were some other things that the island might have on it, if she kept her eyes open. If Tony could get a fire going, that would help too; cooking might be a challenge, but it would be worth it if they could manage to rustle up some protein of some kind.

She had her arms nearly full and was making her way back towards the cabin when another loose coconut caught her eye. Pepper went to scoop it up, and the huge, ugly alien *thing* clinging to it dropped off and scuttled towards her foot.

Pepper screamed.

She didn't do that very often, but in her family, all the Potts women were blessed with lungpower that carried extremely well. Her terrified shriek echoed, sending flocks of panic-stricken birds rocketing from the nearby trees. At her sandals the disgusting monster thing, however, kept moving towards her, talons waving menacingly. Pepper danced backwards, still clutching the kindling as Tony raced up kicking sand everywhere, hacksaw in hand, his expression utterly, completely alarmed.

He looked around, sweeping an arm around Pepper's waist and pulling her to him, "Jesus! What? What?"

Pepper couldn't quite talk yet, and pointed with her chin to the menace in the sand. It hesitated long enough for Tony to get a look at it.

"Whoafuck! What the hell is *that?*" came his startled question as he jumped back, pulling Pepper with him. "It looks like a baby Predator!"

"Crab," Pepper managed, finally. "C-coconut crab, but it scared me."

"No shit," Tony shot her a sidelong glance, half-amused and still slightly fearful. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. In the sand, the crab, having decided it had made a point about stealing coconuts, lifted one claw in an obscenely familiar way and began to scuttle off.

Tony gawped. "He just flipped us off!"

That was too much, and Pepper felt the nervous giggles begin to well up in her, escaping now in unladylike snorts.

"Yeah? Well same to *you,* asshole!" Tony yelled at the retreating crustacean. "I'll see you in butter, with a hint of garlic!"

Pepper lost it completely then, and burst out laughing, dropping all the tinder at that point, her eyes filling up, and her face growing red. Tony caught one glimpse of her and joined in, realizing exactly how bizarre his threat must have sounded and the two of them collapsed into the sand, choking and laughing together for long minutes.

When Pepper could finally breathe without wheezing too much, she wiped her tears away and flopped out on the sand, looking up at the endless blue of the sky and relaxed. She hadn't laughed like that in ages, and now, drained of all tension, she felt pretty damned good, if only for the moment. Pepper turned her head to look at Tony, who was looking at her as well, his expression soft.

"My hero," she murmured, and meant it.


	4. Chapter 4

**He iti wai köwhao waka e tahuri te waka **

It may only be a small storm yet a successful outcome is imminent.

Maori Proverb

Chapter Four

Tony felt himself smile back, and rolled over to face her. "I was serious too. Ugly as that thing is, I'm sure he's edible—after all, lobsters aren't gorgeous and they're pretty tasty."

"Mr. Stark, do you have any idea how to prepare or *cook* something like that?" Pepper asked him, standing up and brushing loose sand from her butt.

He shrugged. "Pot of boiling water, I'd guess. And I'd just eat the tail, anyway."

"Sounds like you have it in the bag, then. All we're lacking is a pot, water, fire and a crab," Pepper pointed out, turning just in time to catch him staring at her ass. Tony cleared his throat, trying to pretend he'd been doing nothing of the sort, but given that his personal assistant had a fairly gorgeous booty just about at face level, it was difficult to pull the ruse off.

She pursed her mouth but didn't chide him for it as she occasionally did. Instead, Pepper held out a hand to pull him up, then went back to collecting the firewood she'd dropped. Tony helped her, taking the majority from her as he spoke. "I have an idea on how to start the fire, but it may be . . . tricky."

"Oh?" Pepper replied. She matched his stride as they made their way down the beach back to the cabin section. "What do you have in mind?"

"A section of wire," Tony told her. "If I strip the insulation from both ends, I can hook one to the arc lead and put the other one against some of the bits of wood and stuff. It should give off enough heat to help it catch."

Pepper instantly looked alarmed. "That's too dangerous, Tony. You can't risk moving the arc around for something like this. We'll find another way."

"I don't think we're going to find one," Tony told her. "And it's not dangerous, just a little . . . tricky."

He had to win her over on this; instinctively Tony knew that Pepper was still behaving as if they were going to be rescued quickly, and he'd been reluctant to break her little delusion with the hard facts. Having flown over the Pacific semi-regularly, Tony knew how vast it was, and even with Jarvis's help, rescuers working a search grid could take weeks or even months to reach them.

If at all.

So the necessity of being able to build a fire was paramount, and Tony wanted to be able to do so quickly. He spoke again. "Look, a fire will keep those . . . crab things away."

Pepper gave an involuntary shudder and Tony pressed his advantage. "Along with anything *else* that might pop out of the trees."

"I don't object to the idea of a fire," Pepper snapped as they reached the cabin. "I'm objecting to you fiddling with your arc, Tony. We don't have access to anything more medical than those two first aid kits, and I'm not a doctor!"

"You don't *have* to be!" he replied fighting exasperation and setting the kindling down. "I'm not even sure it's going to work, Potts, but it's worth trying."

He watched her struggle with herself, and even in the anxiety of waiting for her response, Tony admired Pepper anew. Dressed in his clothes, sunburned, anxious, and she was still as infuriatingly adorable as she ever was. Maybe even more so in the challenge of this situation.

There were a few long, tense moments, and then--

"Tony—yes, okay," she sighed. "You'd try it with or without my help, and I'm not going to let you do this on your own, so let's just get things set up and I'll . . . help you."

He nodded, pleased that she was going to be sensible about it, and twenty minutes later, Tony was on his knees, carefully working the hooked end of the thickest wire he'd been able to salvage into his implant stoma. The copper gleamed, and Tony was careful to keep the other end of the three foot length held up and away from himself. The wire was nearly a quarter of an inch thick, not counting insulation, and had been part of the electrical system in the cabin wall.

"Okay, if I can juuuust snag this . . ." he murmured to Pepper, who was holding the arc a few inches out from his chest and wincing. Her distaste was evident, and Tony felt self-conscious about exposing her to what was clearly a traumatic situation. To lighten the moment, he murmured, "So, you know I was thinking about putting in colored glass for the panels on the arc. I could look like one of those electronic Simon games . . ."

"And if you added music, you could do the theme to Close Encounters," Pepper replied, making him grin.

"Good one. That would *so* freak people out . . . not like this thing wouldn't already, if . . . if anyone but you and Rhodey ever saw it," he finished softly. Tony didn't look at her, but kept his gaze down, probing into the plasma. He felt the bent end of the wire catch, and stared at the other end, watching the exposed copper end there glow. "Houston, we have ignition!"

"Tony--" Pepper's voice was tight and concerned; he risked a glance her way and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion.

"Will you *relax* Pepper? Think of me as sort of a gigantic cigarette lighter right now. Let's see if I can get some flames going."

He carefully set the end of the wire against the dried, fibrous husk of an old coconut. For a moment nothing happened, and then the quick crackle of flame licked up the insides, curling the straw-like strands to cinder. Tony smiled, and tossed some small sticks into the curved section of husk, feeding the flame. "Okay, I think this is our first *planned* lucky break. Can you please keep feeding this while I unhook myself?"

Tony took the arc and held it while he used his other hand to carefully unhook the wire. There was no pain, but it was tricky to juggle for a moment. When he had the ignition wire out, Tony set the arc back in and clicked it to locking position.

"Go rinse that wire in the ocean," Pepper ordered absently, her eyes still on the flames. "I'll keep this going."

This was a sensible suggestion, and Tony did wading in and hearing a slight hiss when he dipped the unconnected wire into the small waves. He coiled it up and came back; the flame was bigger now, and Pepper knelt near it, carefully feeding slightly larger bits of husk and sticks into it. "We're going to need more fuel if we want this to last, Tony. Up along our rope path there are at least ten big fronds . . ."

He knew the place and trotted off, returning with not only those, but also some sizeable sections of fallen and rotted palm trunk. After several more minutes, they had a respectable fire going, and Pepper beamed at him. "You did it. This is good."

"It's definitely a start," Tony agreed, pleased with himself. "Next plane crash, though, you're in charge of the marshmallows."

"It's on my list," Pepper assured him, brushing her bangs back. "Although we could just bypass the entire chest wire thing and pack some butane wands."

"Or a flame thrower," Tony murmured cheerfully. "ohyeah."

"Or, just not crash at all."

"Picky picky," Tony sighed. "Pass me a couple more fronds, will you?"

*** *** ***

They adjusted.

In two days they had some routines down, and Pepper approved of that. Routines kept her attention focused on the immediate needs and grounded her sanity. Routines were good for Tony too, she knew; despite his greater adaptability, he was out of his comfort zone and appreciated the small sense of normality she was trying to bring to their days.

They bathed in the morning; something Pepper insisted on and that Tony groused about, the two of them taking turns in the pool and *not* peeking at each other. Tony had been all for communal bathing, an option Pepper had vetoed *firmly*. Bad enough that she was sleeping next to him every night, Pepper sighed; bathing would have been far too much . . . temptation.

After bathing, (which was tricky with no towels; Pepper had taken to bringing the tablecloth along for that purpose) they refilled whatever water bottles were empty; Pepper had been making each of them drink at least two to three bottles every day to stay hydrated, and it was helping a great deal. So far they hadn't suffered anything from ingesting the water, and Tony surmised that the isolated limestone aquifer probably filtered a lot of contaminants out.

They ate breakfast after that; coconut of course, but the _Guide to the Philippines_ was proving handy; because of a photo in it, Pepper had recognized a mango tree a quarter of a mile around the curve of the lagoon, and the small, sweet fruit made a nice change, food-wise. Tony wanted protein, and brainstormed ways to fish, but most ideas were impractical and dangerous, particularly his suggestion about simply dropping the arc wire into a tidal pool.

"With *my* luck, you'd end up electrocuting yourself, Mr. Stark. No volt fishing!" Pepper had insisted stridently, and with reluctance, he'd finally agreed.

"Fine, fine, but man—especially THIS man--does not live on coconut alone, Miss Potts," he'd warned her.

After breakfast, they explored. In the first few days they'd hiked the rim of the lagoon in both directions, and found the crumbling remains of what appeared to be a stone jetty. There were big mussels on the rocks there, and Pepper pointed out that if the could find a container to use over the fire, steaming a few of the shellfish was a real possibility.

(So far their utensils consisted of the Tupperware box that the salami had been in, and three plastic spoons. Tony had fashioned a rudimentary toasting fork out of wire, but it tended to conduct heat all the way down the handle and burn fingers.)

The discovery of the jetty led to the realization that there must be some sort of road or trail connecting it to the building near the pool, and that led to a debate on exploring the area. Both of them knew it was a good idea, but differed on the logistics. Tony was all for simply wandering in right them, and Pepper wanted to put it off for a day so they would have more light, and pack more water.

She'd won out in the end, and the next day they set out a few hours after dawn, both of them silent. Tony managed to fashion a crude knife from a sharp-edged fragment of metal plating and led the way. Pepper toted two water bottles lashed together with bits of torn shirt.

They were quiet at the start, moving along the cool sand towards the jetty. Pepper looked out over the turquoise water of the lagoon, to the narrow cliff-lined channel that led to the deeper dark blue ocean waters a few miles out. It had been a miracle Joe had brought the jet down there, she realized. Nothing short of a miracle.

"Hey," Tony pulled her attention back to land; he was holding out a thick branch to her, all the little twigs and leaves trimmed off of it. "A stick is better than nothing, right?"

"Not much," Pepper pointed out, but took it anyway. "You know we're going to get scratched to pieces in there."

"Crap," he muttered, realizing the truth of her words as he studied the thick undergrowth, where the faint signs of gravel and bricks marked the track. "Still game?"

She nodded; the lure of finding out who exactly had been here once was strong. She and Tony had theorized all sorts of possibilities; from missionaries to military personnel. The thought of the latter group had Tony impatient to explore. "Even with stuff sixty years old-- the right sort of munitions and supplies--I could send up a serious signal for help, Potts. Something that would show up on *everybody's* satellite feed."

Pepper had no doubt he could; Tony had made it through Afghanistan with little more than he had right now.

"Okay then. What I wouldn't give for a nice pair of Ray-bans right about now," Tony sighed, and stepped into the first of the foliage. "We've off to see the wizard."

She followed behind him, moving quietly, listening to the jungle all around them, and marveling at how alive everything seemed to be. Pepper wasn't really much of an outdoorswoman most of the time but she smiled at the rich foliage and green scent in the air.

They followed the remains of the trail, and Tony occasionally passed observations back to her. "No road tar, so it's a quick construction. I can't see aircraft landing here, so whatever did come was by ship, probably."

"For the water?" Pepper asked.

Tony gave a shrug, wiping a wrist across his forehead. "Probably, yeah. Maybe a refueling stop for the Japanese army."

After about forty minutes, the path turned downhill, and Pepper noted a tree just off the side with familiar fruit hanging off of it. She was startled at the size, and moved to touch a low one dangling nearby. Tony looked over his shoulder and seeing her hungry expression, grinned, his teeth very white against his sunburned face. "Hey, hey--no molesting the avocados!"

"Oh Mr. Stark, I know what *I'M* having for lunch!" Pepper nearly moaned, her fingers moving to pull the knobby-skinned globe from the branch it was attached to. "This makes the trip worth it right here!"

"Whoa, don't grab them right now—let's pick them up on the way back. One less thing to carry, you know?" Tony suggested. "We can do the guacamole thing in a while."

Pepper gave a whimper, but saw the sense of his suggestion; giving the warm dark green globe a last fondle, she sighed and turned to see Tony staring at her, his expression odd.

She blushed. "I really *like* avocadoes."

"I could tell. Given how you were caressing it, I'm surprised the damned thing's not leaping off the tree and following you," Tony muttered, and turned away.

*** *** ***

Tony wished he hadn't embarrassed her, but the way Pepper had been feeling up the avocado had sent a surge of libido through him.

Again.

Up to this point he'd been good about not staring, and not pointing out some of the more risqué factors of their current situation, but catching Potts practically making out with something that looked like an alligator's testicle was too much. Those long pretty fingers, that blissful expression—Tony chided himself for being jealous of a dip ingredient and set his mind on clearing the path.

Because seriously, he had better things to do than moon over Pepper, even though she was still as gorgeous as ever. Sunburned, mosquito-bitten, usually barefoot, wearing *his* boxers for crying out loud—all of it was beginning to affect him, and he didn't need the tension right now.

No, what he needed was to keep his focus on some way of getting them found, and pronto, because Tony knew if he didn't, then he might have to start considering how to avoid his personal assistant and her many delectable charms.

Tony clumped on through the underbrush, trying not to dwell on the unfairness of being stuck on a deserted island with the one woman on the planet who wouldn't sleep with him. The only woman *he* wanted to sleep with.

And not in the 'wrapped in separate Mylar blankets' way, either.

As he pondered this, Tony nearly ran into the large, vine-covered lump in the path and stopped; Pepper bumped into him from behind, murmuring an apology right into his ear and he fought a shiver.

"What is it?" Pepper asked nervously. Tony took her stick and lightly prodded the mound; it made a wooden echo when he hit whatever was solid underneath.

"It's . . . a wagon."

"It is?"

"Was," Tony corrected. "Right now it's just a very fancy planter for a bunch of bushes and vines. You can see the hubs of the wheels just there, and this tells me that we're probably not dealing with anything military here, damn it."

"Why not? Pepper demanded.

He turned to look at her for a moment, then gazed back at the wagon, sighing. "Because it's wood, and it's a wagon, Potts. If either army were moving things back and forth on this road, they'd have used trucks or jeeps."

Pepper nodded thoughtfully, and handed him one of the water bottles. Tony took a long drink as he walked around the wagon. Bending, he managed to find the wagon's tongue and with difficulty pulled it free of the vines. Dangling along the crossbeam were two moldering circlets of ragged leather and wood.

"Donkey hitches," Pepper murmured, and he shot her a surprised look. She shrugged. "I know things too."

"You never fail to intrigue me with what you *do* know," Tony playfully smiled, and turned his gaze beyond the wagon. "No donkeys left, and I don't think that moving this is really feasible. Shall we keep going?"

Pepper nodded, taking the water bottle from him. Tony drew in a breath and led the way once more, gaze swinging from side to side as they pressed on. A few minutes later, the ground began to slope in a familiar way, and both of them could smell water. Tony swept a hand across a veil of vines, and thirty feet ahead, tangled in brambles and nearly hidden by trees stood the crumbling remains of a house.

"Knock knock," he muttered. "Wow. Two stories, limestone . . . somebody lived here in *style* Pepper. This wasn't a wartime temporary thing."

She shook her head, eyes locked on the structure. "It's not . . . native, either. Not like some of the huts and indigenous homes."

"Indigenous?" Tony shot her an amused glance. "Indigenous?"

Pepper rolled her eyes. "I did some sightseeing on my free afternoons, Mr. Stark, and that's definitely not a native design. That's totally . . . western."

He nodded. "I agree. From the look of it, nobody's been here in at least fifty years. Wonder what happened?"

"Tony—" Pepper chided. "I don't need to be spooked any more than I am right now, okay? If we're going go . . . look . . . please don't bring up anything gory or gross."

"Sorry, but my imagination's already hard at work," he confessed in a whisper.


	5. Chapter 5

**Toitü he whenua, whatungarongaro he tangata **

Land is permanent, man disappears.

Maori Proverb

Chapter Five

Pepper's mouth was dry, but she didn't dare drink any more water, because that would make things worse. Ahead of them, the remains of the house stood silent and ominous; the jungle was oddly quiet for the moment.

Then Tony stepped forward. "It's the best light we're going to have. Let's do this."

In that moment, Pepper realized exactly how brave Tony was; certainly braver than *she* was. To face the unknown with little more than a homemade knife took a certain kind of guts, and she admired him even as she made it a point to stand behind him.

"Okaay, so we're walking, we're walking . . ." Tony muttered, making his way through the thick creepers towards the house. "Next time let's bring a torch, even in the daylight, Potts."

"Yes," Pepper agreed. They made their way around the thickets, and she reached out to tug his arm, pointing off to the side of the house. "More mangos."

"And bananas," Tony managed a quick smile. "Admit it; this was all a devious plot to get more fruit into my diet."

Pepper sighed. "Oh, you figured it out. Yes, I arranged for your jet to crash JUST to make a point about vitamins and fiber, Mr. Stark. I hope you've learned your lesson."

"Of course. I've learned never to fly with an avocado-fondler, that's for sure."

Pepper smirked; they were both whistling in the dark here, metaphorically speaking, nervous and trying to assure each other. Overhead, the sunlight came filtering through the canopy of leaves, tingeing everything green around them.

Tony reached the nearest wall and tapped it with the knife, the metal on stone making a harsh sound. "Limestone. Must have taken some time to carve out."

He began to move down the length, reaching what appeared to be more of a hole than a window, and peered in. "Pepper---I see . . ."

"Yes?" she whispered fearfully, standing a little off, and trying not to twitch.

"Stuff. Good stuff. Come on!"

*** *** ***

Pepper blinked at his happy tone, but obediently followed as he slashed and pulled at the vines. They both turned the corner and found the doorway, with the door still there, although so rotted that it took only a few moments to pull it to pieces. Pepper nudged Tony and pointed to the side of the house; they could see the pool and waterfall, and on the other side, the orange of the trail rope was visible along the ground.

"We're not too far away then, and we could take a dip if we get too hot," Tony nodded. "When we get back, I'll try to do a map."

"The water flows off in a stream," Pepper observed, "so it's not a stagnant pool."

"Didn't think it was," Tony replied. "There ARE fish in it, you know."

"I didn't know that," Pepper confessed meekly. "I was too busy worrying about leeches."

The look on Tony's face made it clear that up to that point he hadn't considered those; he turned to peer into the darkness of the ruined house. "Thanks. I needed to know that right before going in here—"

"Tony—" Pepper sighed, and followed him through the doorway.

Inside was dark and dank; cobwebs and mold covered the walls. Pepper peered over Tony's shoulder and let her eyes adjust to the darkness, her nose wrinkling at the smell, which reminded her of old, waterlogged books. Tony moved inward, and reached out to touch something.

"Chair," he murmured. "Unbelievable. A bamboo chair."

"More like the frame of one," Pepper agreed. "And other . . . furniture—"

The moldering remains of a few sofas and tables stood, covered with dirt and leaves in the dim cave of a room. Tony looked up and gave a low whistle. "Oil lamps. Potts, if we can find some oil here—"

He didn't have to finish; Pepper understood the potential and nodded. She turned her head and caught sight of other doorways. "Tony, I think that's a kitchen in there."

"Knives. Pots and pans," he murmured intently and shifted in the direction she was looking. "Come on."

Pepper felt her heartbeat speed up a little; the idea of cooking utensils had her feeling more upbeat than she'd been since they'd found water. Lightly stepping behind Tony, she followed him through the doorway across the room, trying to see in the filtered light. The floor was littered with vines and dead leaves; things that had gotten under the door and through the broken windows.

Tony stepped into the kitchen and looked around. "Early caveman, clearly. I don't even see running water, Potts, although I *do* see a few of your namesakes."

She moved around him, ignoring the little tease, her attention on the cupboards and counters. "Cast iron! Rusty, sure, but with a good sand scrubbing it will be fine . . yes! A frying pan, and a Dutch oven . . . Tony, we're taking these. Now."

"No argument here," he grinned at her, "None at all. What else?"

"Check the drawers," Pepper ordered, trying to think logically, but too excited to quiet the rise of her voice. "We need silverware, and utensils, too."

"Okay, okay," Tony agreed, "we *can* make more than one trip, Pepper—don't have to get it all today, you know."

She didn't reply; Pepper was tugging on a drawer pull, but the knob crumbled away in her hand. Tony stepped over and used his makeshift knife to pry the drawer open, and the dark cutlery gleamed at them. "Black?"

"It's just tarnish," Pepper told him. "Silver tarnishes." She loaded up several spoons, forks and knives into the Dutch oven with a musical clatter. "Next drawer!"

*** *** ***

Pepper was back to bossing him around, and Tony felt a surge of relief and affection as he followed her directions about what items to collect. It was good to be back on familiar footing, and clearly this was doing Potts a world of good, this making the big decisions again. Even in the dim light he could see the sparkle in her eyes. Both of them would be seriously grubby once they got out of the house, he knew, but the treasures so far were worth all the trouble.

He managed to talk Pepper out of the kitchen and she came reluctantly, her attention still on the potential there as Tony pointed out the other rooms. They moved carefully, using the stick to clear the way ahead, and from the skittering at times, it seemed that the house still had several occupants of a sort.

"Study," Tony observed of the back room. There was a bookcase, and he eagerly reached for the nearest tome, only to pull his hand back quickly as an enormous dark spider darted out and along the edge of the case. "Shit!"

"Nasty," Pepper empathized, her eyes wide as she unconsciously moved to keep the bulk of Tony between her and the eight-legged menace. "Is it safe now?"

"One way to find out—" Gingerly Tony reached again with the stick, sweeping all around. Finally he hooked a finger along the top of the book and pulled it; the volume tipped out and he caught it, flipping it open. "Great. It's in German."

"What?"

"Viehwirtschaft," Tony muttered. "Sounds dirty." He flipped through the yellowing pages, which were puffy from rain, stopping at an intricately drawn diagram of a pig's anatomy. "Damn. They really _are_ corkscrew shaped!"

"Tony!" Pepper blushed hotly and took the book from him, snapping it shut. "NOT helpful right now!"

"Everything is helpful, ultimately, but okay, okay—how about, um Die Bibel, whatever _that_ is."

Tony opened this leather-backed book, and the faded ink on the inside pages made him squint. "Oh, Bible! And there are some names here . . ."

Pepper leaned over his shoulder to read, and her very nearness made him shiver again. She didn't seem to notice, though, and murmured softly. "Hans Von Dressel, geboren; eighteen seventy-two; getauft, eighteen seventy-three; konfirmiert, eighteen eighty-three; verheiratet mit Anna Feldmann, nineteen oh-four."

"Family record," Tony sighed. "For what it's worth. So, making an educated guess here, if Hans was ge-bor-ened in eighteen seventy-two, it's safe to say he's not around anymore."

"There's more, but I can't read it," Pepper observed quietly. "More names. Children, probably."

"So Hans and Anna had a family. What *I'm* interested in is why two turn-of-the-century Germans are out here in the middle of the Pacific," Tony muttered, handing Pepper the bible.

"Homesteading?" she ventured, touching the open pages reverently. "Or missionaries, given the bible—"

Tony cocked his head, and looked around the dim study. He noted a huge framed picture on the wall and stepped closer to look at it. Behind dirty glass, the moldy remains of a diploma of some sort could be seen. He touched the heavy wood frame. "The glass—we could use that. And probably the books too, if they're not too damp."

"You're not thinking of *burning* them, are you?" Pepper gasped. Tony shot her a sidelong glance and said nothing for a long moment, noting how stubborn she looked.

Adorable, but stubborn.

"Do you *read* German?" he asked in a reasonable tone. Pepper didn't answer, and in doing so, let him know what he needed to know. "Didn't think so. Pepper, we'll use them as a last resort, okay?"

"We'll find other things. We can use the St. Lavender book."

Tony grinned. "Not until after you've read it. Far be it for me to deny my faithful Girl Friday her only luxury on this island."

"It's . . . not that important," Pepper blushed, and Tony knew he'd said the right thing. At the moment they had so damned little, and he wasn't about to begrudge Pepper anything to make their confinement here bearable.

He glanced around the study, making a note of a few things and sighed. "Okay, well, this one's worth a return visit too—shall we keep going?"

Pepper nodded, and they moved back into the dark hall. At the end of it, the moldering remains of a wooden staircase sagged upwards towards a bright light, and Tony peered upwards, his expression wary. "Second floor, no roof, and no elevator. I wouldn't trust a Chihuahua's weight on these risers."

Pepper followed his gaze and nodded. "True. But there are probably bedrooms up there, and if we're already here . . . you could . . . boost me up."

Tony turned, his gaze only slightly milder than furious. "Oh like *hell* Potts! You think I'm going to just heave you, alone, into a nest of God only knows *what* up there?"

He couldn't help it; the idea of Pepper being stung, or bitten or Christ—*anything* could happen, and Tony realized in a rush of panic that this wasn't something he was quite ready to consider.

Being stranded with Pepper was bearable. Being stranded *without* her---

"Tony, be reasonable," Pepper sighed. "We've made enough noise that most anything living here has already scuttled away. If we don't look up there, we'll regret it—what if there's something truly useful, like a functioning oil lamp or something?"

Damn. She knew him too well. Tony gripped one of the banisters. "And what if it's an anaconda?"

"You're just being stubborn," Pepper murmured, and a flare of irritation hit Tony. His shoulder hurt, he was hot, sweaty, scratched up, bug-bitten and hungry. On top of all that, he knew Pepper was right.

"Yes, I'm being my usual pain-in-the-ass self, Miss Potts, but let me remind you I've *done* the survival thing before and you haven't, and part of the reason I'm alive is because I didn't take stupid risks!"

"No, of course not! You merely built a flying suit under the noses of bloodthirsty terrorists, blew up all the stored ammo they had and launched yourself into the air with NO landing equipment!" Pepper shot back, her hands flying to her hips. "Yes, I can see how those were all amazingly SAFE and SANE risks!"

"They WORKED!" Tony snapped, glaring at her. "If I hadn't have done it, I'd be long dead. I'm USED to weighing the odds and making choices, Potts!"

"Yes, and I've never EVER had to do THAT, Tony Stark! Not ONCE in the entire time I've thanklessly slaved for you have I EVER had to make hard choices and decisions!" came Pepper's low, hard hiss. "There are times when despite your IQ and degrees, you are a first-class IDIOT, and if it wasn't for the fact that you ARE a good man somewhere inside that buffoonish façade, I would have left a LONG time ago. Now boost me up or so help me I'll . . . " She trailed off, glaring hard at him, her nostrils flaring.

Tony felt a rush of odd emotions slamming into him as he stood there, staring at Pepper in the dim light that filtered through the hole onto them. He watched sweat roll along her hairline, noted the healing bruise on her chin and the way she was trying to control her breathing.

He gritted his teeth, standing against the frustration, admiration and desire that swirled in his stomach. "You'll what? Throw me to the coconut crabs? Make me sleep on the sand?"

"I'll tell *everyone* that you have Star Wars sheets on the pullout couch in your garage," Pepper muttered firmly. "*Original* sheets."

Tony froze, unprepared. She continued. "I'll text it, and twitter it and make sure it's in every memo and official document going out of Stark Industries, so HELP me, I *will* Anthony Edward Stark!"

He laughed, throwing his head back and letting the great waves of mirth roll through him as the beautiful absurdity of her threat sank in. Tony mentally pictured CEOs and foreign contacts for SI, all puzzling over the message, wondering if it was some secret cipher, or virus in the bizarre addendum to all paperwork. _Tony Stark has Star Wars sheets—quick, get this to the decoders and tell me what it means!_

Pepper watched him laugh, her own expression shifting from worry to amusement and she joined in when he helplessly bowed to her in mock dramatic fashion. "Oh bravo, bravo, Potts. Th-that would do it, yep. With the sheet secret out, I could never do lunch at the Tiburon Rojo again!"

"Yes, well I hope you've learned your lesson," Pepper fought to keep a straight face. "My threats carry weight, you know,"

"You *are* scary in your ability to promise harm," Tony agreed, impishly.

*** *** ***

Pepper felt the tension loosen in her shoulders, grateful that the ugliness of the moment before was gone now. She hated conflict and had *never* enjoyed arguing with anyone, much less Tony, and every time in the past it had taken a toll on her. But here and now, he *had* to see her side and understand it was for the greater good.

She paused, then looked at Tony, her voice softer and more reasonable. "Just let me take a peek. If there's something worthwhile we can always come back, but the light is good, and we're *here*."

Tony took a breath and nodded. "I don't have to *like* it," he agreed, "But you're right—we need every resource we can find. How do you want to do this?"

In the end, Pepper let him hoist her up on his interlaced fingers, ordering him to let her go if the strain was too much for his shoulder. Tony nodded, and she knew he would probably ignore that, but when she stepped into his hands and he lifted her—easily, smoothly—Pepper reached up to grip the edge of the upper floor and began to pull. Tony braced, and she pulled herself up on the edge, then looked around.

"I'm up. There's a bed. Tony--" Her voice wobbled on his name.

"It's okay!" he yelled up to her, but Pepper closed her eyes, fighting nausea and horror.

It wasn't okay. There was--or had been—someone *on* the bed. Pepper could see the shape there, dark and mounded into natural elements now, but unmistakable just the same, and for a moment she debated whether she actually *could* look around and beyond it.

"Pepper? Talk to me, come on, don't go quiet on me now!" Tony called up anxiously. "

"I'm fine," she managed, forcing normality into her voice. "I think one of the occupants um, died up here. On the bed."

"Damn it!" came Tony's interjection. "Come on back down, Pepper--"

"Tony, it's all right!" she told him, coming to peer over the hole and reassure him. "Really. It's just . . . dirt, now."

Turning she looked again, and in the green sunlight filtering through the crumbled roof, Pepper realized it was true. Despite the human shape, there was nothing scary about the sight. Pepper took a few steps in the leaf-littered room and let her gaze take in what else was there. She spoke loudly so her words would reach Tony. "There's a bed, and more pictures . . . oh! A pitcher! Hang on."

She walked to the remains of a dresser and picked up the heavy ceramic pitcher there, out of the washbowl. It was filled with slimy water, and Pepper poured it out on the floor, not wanting to guess what had been in it. She dumped the water in the bowl as well, and carried them to the edge, handing them down to Tony, who took them from her. "A washbasin and pitcher—fits with the time period I guess," he commented.

"We can use them," Pepper pointed out. "AND the chamber pot."

His upturned face make her laugh as he stared, eyes wide. "You did NOT just say chamber pot. No."

"Yep. I learned all about those from Gwendolyn St. Lavender," Pepper teased. "Come on, think of it as another container."

"It's not the container it's the contents," he shot back. "Even hundred year old content. ESPECIALLY hundred year old content!"

"Tony, we'll set them in the surf and let the ocean scrub them clean," Pepper pointed out. "I'm going back to the dresser."

"Is there a mirror?" he asked. She turned her head and looked.

"Broken," she sighed. "There are just pieces left in the frame."

"Damn," floated Tony's regret from down below. "Okay, what else? Furniture?"

"Not much," Pepper informed him as she stepped carefully on the rotting floorboards. "Dresser, and a small table."

"What was the lighting?"

"What?"

"What was the lighting? Look around," Tony urged from down below. Pepper glanced around and spotted the fallen oil lamp on the floor. She picked it up, amazed that it wasn't broken, and still held a murky quantity of . . . something.

After passing down the oil, Pepper moved to the other room on the other side of the stairwell, treading lightly, and brushing spider webs away as she grimaced. This room had more ceiling, and was darker; she tried not to think about the crunching noises underfoot. When she reached the doorway, Pepper peered in, letting her eyes adjust to the light, and slowly, the shapes of the furniture here became ones she recognized.

Pepper gave a hurt little sigh and backed away. "T-tony. I . . . I can't!"

"Pepper?" came his voice, low and full of concern. "*Hate* this—forget it, I'm coming up!"

"Tony!" grateful to shift her focus, Pepper leaned over the hole; Tony had already begun to climb up part of the rotted stairs, moving with agility as he clambered up. The broken stairs creaked, but held, and he scrambled over the edge, half-crawling onto the landing, looking up at Pepper with concern.

"Hey."

"You're filthy," she blurted, but her smile was trembling, and her eyes were too bright. Tony got to his feet and looked over her shoulder. Tattered lace curtains and in the center of the room, the dim, dark shape of a cradle.

Without a word, Tony pulled Pepper into his arms and held her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Naku te rourou nau te rourou ka ora ai te iwi**

_With your basket and my basket the people will live_

_Maori proverb_

Chapter Six

They carefully climbed down again after that, quiet and thoughtful as they made one last tour of the house. Pepper's eyes were still red, but she lugged the Dutch oven, making it rattle with every step. Tony had the ceramic pots, the frying pan and some of the larger knives. As they stepped out of the house, he set everything down and spoke softly. "Are you okay?"

Pepper nodded before she spoke. "I . . . I will be. But I don't think I want to go upstairs again, Tony."

"Agreed," came his soft murmur. Holding Pepper while she cried for the long-dead infant had been one of the hardest, sweetest sensations he'd ever experienced, and Tony wasn't sure he was all the steady himself at the moment. To cover his uncertainty, he took a breath and rubbed his shoulder. "So, we've seen the house . . . . there's got to be more."

"More?" came the blank response. "Tony, I think it was only the one family."

"I didn't see any tools," Tony murmured. "Think about it, Pepper. They had to have machetes and rakes and hoes and shovels to live here. If we didn't find any in the house, it means they're somewhere nearby; in another building."

That made sense, and Pepper glanced around. She and Tony spotted the tall tangle of vines at the same time, and he motioned for her to stay put. Hefting his homemade knife, Tony moved to the rise of green nearly ten yards away and used the point of it cut away some of branches. Under it, the pale surface of limestone showed up, and he hacked away a bit more. Pepper came over to help by pulling away vines and bit by bit they exposed the shed.

Inside, the mustiness told of ancient hay and mildew. Tony smiled, poking his head inside a crumbled section of wall. "Potts, we have hit the mother lode!"

Two shovels, a machete with a raveling jute-wrapped handle, a pair of hammers, an ax and a sickle hung along one wall, rusty, but visible in a shaft of sunlight. Tony reached for them, handing each one back to Pepper as he hummed happily. "Yes, this is good. Very good. I'm guessing there's probably a whetstone in here too, so we can get workable edges back on these. With an ax we can get some serious firewood, and I can slap together a door for the cabin . . ."

Behind him, Pepper chuckled; Tony looked over at her curiously. "What?"

"Sorry. One ax and suddenly you're Bob the Builder," she snickered.

"Oh, and tell me you didn't go all Julia Child when you saw that kitchen?" came his retort. "It's all about what makes the here and now livable."

"Tony—" Pepper smiled. "Yes, I agree. I'm just glad you're . . . confident." When he shot her a puzzled look, she went on, lifting her chin. "Honestly, if I was on this island with anyone *else,* we'd probably still be huddled on the beach in wet clothes."

"So the moral of the story is, if you HAVE to crash on a deserted island, always make sure you've got Tony Stark with you," he pointed out, handing her one of the shovels. "I can live with that. Although," he admitted, "You're not exactly a slacker in the survival department either, Potts. I'm sure you're the stuff of campfire legends in the coconut crab world."

"What?" Pepper stared at him, trying not to laugh. Tony flashed her a gentle smirk as he handed over the machete.

"Oh yeah. The sunset-haired, coconut-stealing banshee, whose very screech means a pot of boiling death who cross her path. You know, stuff like that."

"He *startled* me, and I didn't KILL him!" Pepper huffed.

Tony laughed. "That's only because you didn't have the pot yet. I know how these legends go."

By the time they'd consolidated their treasures, Tony realized it was too much to carry. They had a peeled lunch of bananas and fallen avocadoes and as they ate, debated making two trips. Tony looked down towards the pool and spoke almost absently. "Or, we could just make a raft and swim with it across the water. That would take out the better part of the trip right there."

"A raft?" Pepper looked up from her avocado half, licking smears of green off her lips in a sexy and distracting way.

"There's enough of the shed door to make a raft, sure. As long as we don't sit on it ourselves, we could probably push it across the pond without too much trouble," Tony lazily pointed out. It felt good to have a full stomach, and in the filtered sunlight he was getting sleepy. A nap sounded like a good idea.

Pepper eyed the distance doubtfully. "What if something falls off the raft? I'm NOT going to be happy if that happens."

"We'll secure everything with vines. Come on, Pepper; it's not like there are any waves, and the added benefit is that we'll both be nice and clean when we get out on the other side," Tony murmured seductively. It was fun to see her perk up; to know just what to bribe her with. The added bonus was that Pepper wet meant much more of Pepper to look at, but Tony didn't mention that aloud.

"You're just capitalizing on my preference to stay clean," Pepper pointed out, but she was smiling as she said it.

Tony gave a shrug and tried to look nonchalant, but wasn't sure he could pull it off; Pepper knew him better than anyone else. "I *may* be aware of certain pesky habits of yours," he admitted. "Cleanliness being one of them."

"It's not pesky; it's civilized and important in preventing disease," she told him firmly. "Bad enough you're already looking a bit like a hedgehog, Mr. Stark—I'm certainly not going to let your grooming standards drop *altogether.*"

"A hedgehog?" Tony inquired, one eyebrow going up as he considered whether to be hurt by this comparison or not.

Pepper gave a small sigh. "Before you get annoyed, please remember that hedgehogs are often considered rather . . . cute. Bristly, though."

"I'm Iron Man," Tony pointed out. "Cute isn't the adjective I'm going for."

"You're Stranded Man. And I'm Stranded Assistant, and we need to get our goodies across the pool, so let's go get the shed door," Pepper told him and rose, dusting off her backside.

Tony sighed loudly, and scratched his chin. "Iron Hedgehog really just . . . doesn't have the same oomph, Potts. Although I *can* live with you thinking I'm cute."

She didn't reply to that, and Tony laughed at the way Pepper studiously ignored him.

*** *** ***

That night, they feasted. Steamed mussels and fried bananas, with mangos for dessert. Cooking was tricky; Pepper managed to suspend the Dutch oven over a makeshift crossbar that Tony salvaged from leftover wreckage parts, but the end result was worth it, and they stretched out on the sand near the fire, looking up at the heavy dusting of stars, feeling full for the first time in days.

Pepper felt knots inside her finally relax a bit, and she crossed her hands behind her head. "So, what is the plan?"

"The plan is to sleep," Tony mumbled, his eyes already closed, "and to allow digestion to do its happy thing."

"I didn't mean right *now,* Tony," Pepper chided. "I mean for the next few days. You've *got* a plan and I would like to be ready for it, please."

She knew Tony had been mulling on how best to get them rescued; it was precisely the sort of challenge he thrived on, and Pepper had faith he'd come up with something if he didn't already have an idea in mind. Tony was at times, extremely goal-oriented, and now that their survival basics were met, Pepper had no doubt her boss was on the case.

"Fine. I need to find a way to signal any passing planes—not that we've seen any yet--and to do that most effectively, I need both a good working knowledge of this island's layout, and our two Mylar blankets. I want to explore our island, find the highest point and take a look around the neighborhood."

"Hmmm," Pepper murmured, feeling a wave of sleepiness engulf her. "The stars are beautiful."

"So are you," Tony mumbled.

Pepper drew in a breath, not ready for that. "Tony."

"Just complimenting the cook. We need to get some sleep," he rolled over and rose slowly. "Come on Potts, bed time."

As the next few days passed, Pepper wondered why it was simultaneously so easy and so hard to sleep next to Tony. He was by no means a bed hog—something that surprised her—and his warmth soothed her through the night. Even his soft snore comforted Pepper more than it annoyed her. They went to sleep back to back, but by morning one of them was usually curled around the other, and Pepper found she liked waking up with the feel of Tony's breath along the back of her neck.

Still, it was difficult to quell the urges of interest that panged through her body at the nearness of his, and she tried not to provoke responses from him, knowing that a sleeping Tony wasn't fully responsible for the morning reflex that prodded her backside each dawn.

Pepper dimly remembered the male phenomenon from ancient, previous relationships, and gave Tony the benefit of the doubt. In any event, his erection was as regular as any alarm clock—_an alarm cock_, she snickered to herself—and Pepper made it a habit to get up at first prod, leaving the bed to go and begin collecting firewood.

They'd built a small bin area for firewood under a section of curved hull, and it kept the fuel dry from the regular, brief downpours that happened every day. Together, they'd also built a crude fire pit by piling beach rocks in a wide circle. Tony reinforced the crossbar over it by building a metal frame that looked a lot like a miniature swing set, and bent a crude pothook from which to hang the Dutch oven.

She was making a sort of soup at the moment; more of a fruit stew with chunked coconut, mango and breadfruit—another discovery, thanks to the _Guide to the Philippines_. Pepper felt true gratitude to the author, and fully intended to write a nice letter of thanks once they were rescued.

Pepper fed more tinder to the fire, and looked out over the lagoon, noting the new debris along the tide line, washed there by the low surf. At the moment Tony was off in the jungle, most likely taking a leak against some tree, and Pepper was going to give him a few minutes more before she called for him.

She sighed. Out of all the aspects of being stranded with Tony Stark, the bathroom situation was still the most awkward; even more so than the sleeping arrangements. She'd done her share of camping, and Pepper knew well the less than pleasant aspects of squatting in the woods. To be stuck with that option was bad enough; to have *Tony* with her for it was worse.

He'd designated one of the shovels they'd found as the official potty shovel, and they kept it against the side of the cabin. At the moment it was missing, which was how Pepper knew Tony was off, contemplating nature, as it were. She looked again to the water's edge, and headed down, curious to see what the tide had brought in today.

Pepper shaded her eyes, wishing once again for a hat. She'd seen them woven of palm fronds while on the trip, and thought about trying to make one herself—if anything it would help pass some of the time in the shade. She absently picked her way through the washed up palm fronds and seaweed, looking down the beach. There were a few plastic bags, and Pepper checked them for holes. Both were good, so she hung onto them; plastic bags were proving to be very handy for storing tinder and the water bottles and for carrying the sections of tablecloth to and from the waterfall.

Pepper turned back, trotting along and thinking of laundry, and wondering if Tony was going to be much longer.

*** *** ***

Tony felt guilty. He'd done the one thing he'd never done, not in years and years and years. There were all sorts of sins on his soul; if the Ten Commandments were anything to go by, he was in deep doo-doo already, but out of all of them, Tony Stark hadn't broken the seventh one—or the eighth, maybe, he wasn't too sure of the numbering anymore.

He'd stolen.

It wasn't right, but at this point he couldn't help it. Tony had taken the Lord's name in vain, many times. He'd worked on the Sabbath, he'd coveted plenty, even with all the money he had, but stealing outright wasn't something he'd ever had to resort to before.

But that was before his current, slightly desperate situation.

Tony sighed, and squeezed his fist more tightly around the little scrap of cloth in his grip. He knew he didn't have a lot of time; Pepper would be wondering what was taking him so long, and the added fear of being caught put an edge to the whole situation.

Panties. He'd stolen a pair of Pepper's panties. Not any pair either; the pretty pink lace ones, the small and dainty and fucking sexy as hell ones.

Tony gave a little whimper. Life in the last few days had become, to put it bluntly, exceedingly hard. Being around Pepper—in close proximity, close enough to breathe in the scent of her, to sleep with the warm weight of her—was making his promise not to touch her more and more difficult to keep.

The problem was compounded by the fact that there wasn't much privacy either. Both of them knew that wandering off was a bad idea, and the only time they parted for any length of time was for toileting. Tony had set the rules up himself, but was beginning to regret them at the moment.

He unfolded his grip and looked down at the panties in his palm. In the filtered sunlight he noted the delicacy of the lace, and instantly pictured them on Pepper.

*That* brought a swift response. Tony hunkered over in the shade of a large multi-rooted tree and kept his back hunched. The plane cabin was a hundred yards behind him, barely visible. He undid his jeans and shorts, pushing them down to free his impatient erection.

Tony closed his eyes, all the better to focus, and lightly rubbed the material between his thumb and forefingers, letting the feel of the fabric fuel his imagination; not that it needed too much more to flare up.

_Pepper. Pepper nearly naked half the time now; bathing, even though he *tried* not to look; Pepper drying off, GOD, yeah, oh yeah, a natural redhead_ . . .

A mouthful of saliva in lieu of anything else, and Tony gripped himself, stroking firmly. Pleasure at the pressure of his fingers, his focus narrowing now to the throbbing heat along his cock. He groaned softly, caught up in the mental images behind his closed lids now as he brought the panties up to his nose—

_How warm and firm Pepper's ass felt up against him in the night, how much he *wanted* to reach along her hip and start tugging these panties down, yess, oh yesss, letting his hand slide around under the thin little fabric to touch that pretty fur of hers . . . _

It didn't take long, and within a few minutes Tony grunted, the thick surge of his hot semen surging forth to spatter along the leaves and ground. He squeezed the softening length of his shaft, breathing in the last, faint sweet scent of Pepper from the panties, feeling both relief and shame.

_Desperate measures_, he defended himself mentally, reaching for a few broad leaves.

By the time he made it back to the cabin, Pepper was cutting up something—papaya it looked like—and humming to herself. Tony relaxed, trying to look casual. "Starting on lunch?"

"Going to simmer some fruit and make a soup I guess. Tony, have you, um, seen my underwear?"

"Are you . . . offering?" he bluffed, fighting a sense of panic. He'd plucked her lingerie off a bush that held some of the drying laundry, not realizing she had it all inventoried in that overly-efficient Potts way.

"Tony—" she chided, and he noted a blush on her profile. "I just . . . I don't have as many pairs as you do, so they're all . . . important."

"Can you . . . *describe* the missing pair?" Tony murmured, trying hard to sound flippant. The fact that the topic of conversation was currently tucked into his jeans pocket was making things a bit more difficult for him.

Pepper shot him a dry look. "I think you're perfectly aware that they're the pink ones, Mr. Stark. It's not as if I've got a huge collection here."

"Pink?" he echoed, starting to sound a little forced. "You have a pink pair? I hadn't noticed."

Her glare of mingled disbelief and amusement let him know that his lie was *not* going over well. Tony cleared his throat and drew himself up. "Well did you look all around the bush with the other pairs . . ." as soon as his words left his mouth, he realized he'd incriminated himself completely.

Pepper rose up, her expression angry. "What have you done with my underwear?"

"Nothing!" Tony yelped, anxious to escape now. "I don't have—"

Pepper reached out one hand and dug in his front pocket; Tony twisted away but not quickly enough as she produced the missing panties, tugging them out like a magician's scarf. "Tony!"

"Pepper!" he retorted. "I'm not—It's *not* what you think, okay?"

She crossed her arms and glared at him, her face red but her blue eyes flinty. "If it's not what you think I think it is, then what *is* it, Mr. Stark?"

"What?" For a moment Tony tried to follow the thread of her comment. "Oh. What I mean to say is that I'm *not* a, a pervert. I'm not one of those creepy old guys who collects underwear, all right?"

"No, you're one of the creepy *young* guys," Pepper growled at him. "Honestly Tony, I've put up with a *lot* of weird things in working for you all these years. There was that whole 'women who don't speak English' phase, and the time you had the trampolines and the trapeze installed in your bedroom, but this is really just . . . too much!"

"Too much?" Tony snapped back. "Oh give me a break, Pepper! I am doing my *best* to be good here, all right? But let's face facts: you are a beautiful woman, and when you rub your ass against me night after night, it *does* make it difficult for me to behave. If I discreetly choose to have a meaningful moment with a . . . visual aid, I think it's a small price to pay to keep me sane!"


	7. Chapter 7

**He waka eke noa**

_(Life is)A canoe which we are all in with no exception_

Chapter Seven

"I do _not_ . . . rub!" Pepper burst out, horrified. Part of her outrage was fueled by a panicky sense of guilt; had she been rubbing? It was entirely possible, she knew.

"Oh yes you do," Tony grumbled back, running a hand through his dark hair. "Trust me on this."

He stood there, looking red and slightly sheepish, but defiantly so, and Pepper didn't know whether she wanted to slap or kiss him. _Why not both? _her mind snickered, and she flexed her fingers around her lingerie. "Maybe we ought to sleep apart," she shot back, knowing it was a stupid suggestion even as she made it.

Tony's face fell, and it was gratifying to see his sense of alarm. "No. Not a good idea, Pepper, and you _know_ that. We still don't know what moves around after dark on this island, and frankly, I don't want to be the one waking up with snakes or spiders all over me."

"It would serve you right," she grumbled. "Honestly Tony! You were in Afghanistan for three _months_ and I'm sure you didn't need to resort to . . . this."

"In Afghanistan they gave me Playboy. In Turkish, no less," Tony admitted. "Very old and battered copies, but . . . serviceable."

"You're vile," Pepper told him with a sigh.

"No, I'm a man. We're very basic animals, Pepper, designed primarily to eat and make more little animals just like us. I'm not going to argue about biology with you, I just want credit for trying to be discreet about my needs. For once."

Pepper sighed again. It was funny, really; she'd dealt with much worse in Tony's hedonistic past, when finding him nude or passed out seemed to be the norm. This little faux pas was hardly a blip on the radar compared to the old heydays and yet it felt more risqué simply be cause it was _her_ underwear on the line.

She wondered if he'd fantasized about her specifically, and that thought made her blush afresh. Pepper turned away, hoping Tony wouldn't catch her new embarrassment. "Okay, you get points for being a semi-gentleman."

"Okay then," he sounded relieved. "Because I figured, hey, if you're already borrowing _my_ undies—"

"—Not for the same purpose! Oh God—you're not . . . _wearing_ mine, are you?"

"What? No!" he countered, looking slightly alarmed. "I'm not THAT kinky and besides, they're _waaay_ too small! I'd end up hurting myself if I tried to do _that."_

Pepper snorted; it was unladylike, but the sudden image of Tony prancing in her panties was horrifyingly funny and she couldn't help herself. She covered her face in her hands, spluttering with laughter, unable to look at the man as she tried to get control of herself once more.

God. Stuck in the middle of the Pacific with Tony, who apparently had biological _urges _he couldn't manage to ignore, the way everyone else on the planet, herself included, could. It was almost too much, and she struggled to get control again. Tony was looking aggrieved now, but Pepper could see the upward turn at the corners of his mouth and she knew he was fighting the urge to join in.

"F-f-fine," she managed, drawing a deep breath. "I suppose I can compromise and let you um, 'borrow' a pair now and then if you absolutely _must_ but I do not want to KNOW about it. And Mr. Stark—" she managed a straight face but it was incredibly difficult, "—I'm going to want a raise for this, because it really, _really_ goes outside my stated job description."

Tony broke up, head back, laughing to the sky, and in that moment he was so beautiful--hair wild and curly, lovely laugh lines at the corners of his sweet brown eyes—that Pepper felt her heart lurch painfully within her chest. This man: so irritating and brilliant and unforgettable all in one compact package, he had her _soul_ with his smile.

She went back to the stew, staring dumbly at it, almost missing Tony's next words in her daze.

"Miss Potts, when we return, I am going to give you a raise for every _day_ we're on this island. So far I owe you six raises, right?"

"Right," Pepper blinked, thinking back over the days. "Almost a week."

Had it been that long?

Had it been that short?

Pepper glanced around at the campsite they'd made. A fire pit, stored fuel, stored water, utensils, cooking pots, collected fruit in plastic bags, laundry on the bushes--

Tony had settled on the shade on the far side of the cooking pit, working with the hacksaw on a few long lengths of bamboo, sawing them with cheerful energy, speaking aloud as he did so. "I'm going to frame the Mylar blankets—lash the bamboo with the electrical tape, then tape down the blankets over them to make the largest reflective surface possible. If we keep the frame light, we should be able to move it and signal anything passing overhead. With me so far, Potts?"

"I understand," Pepper murmured, coming over to watch him. "How can I help?"

"Smooth out the Mylar please, and see if there are any tears. If there are, we'll repair them on the underside with some of the tape."

"Okay," she could do that, certainly. Pepper laid out the two blankets, pinning them down on the sand with large stones, and smoothed them out. Their silvery surfaces caught the light and made her squint; she stepped back, feeling hopeful at the sight of them. Tony glanced over and nodded approvingly.

"Nice. Now if you'll hold the bamboo . . . I'm going to cut at a forty-five degree angle to make the frame fit snugly. Should we make one mirror or two? One large one would be more easily seen, but harder to hold up, and more easily damaged . . . ."

"Make two," Pepper suggested quietly. We can use them side by side, and that way even if one gets damaged, we'll have the other for backup."

Nodding, Tony sawed on. Within an hour, both Mylar mirrors were done, big bright panels of silver that made little rattling noises when the breeze caught them. Pepper tried to look at her reflection in one, but the image was hazy, and what she_ could_ see didn't please her at all: baggy Hawaiian shirt, loose boxers, hair looking limp and straggly.

She made a face at herself. Tony caught the gesture and gave a chiding little scowl. "You look like a cute, fun-loving tourist. _I, _on the other hand, look like a homeless bum."

"No—" she tried to deny it, but Tony gave a noisy sigh and scratched his beard.

"Oh come on; a bottle of Night Train in a paper bag and I'd be set. Of course I'm a bit more high-class hobo since I've got two sneakers and they actually _match_."

*** *** ***

He'd caught the wistful look Potts had given her reflection, and Tony felt badly for her. Pepper was always, _always _well-groomed, and this extended isolation from shampoo and dry cleaners had to be hard on her. Not that it made that much of a difference, Tony thought—despite the slight peel of sunburn and some lankiness to her hair, Pepper still looked amazingly good.

And the scent of her! Tony had always liked the subtle bouquet of Pepper's skin, and now, that personal perfume warmed by the sun and infused with just a little perspiration was enticing in a way he didn't dare mention, not after the panty fiasco.

So he looked to the sky and squinted, scanning the heavens. "Now we're set; we see a plane, we can signal it."

"If there's a plane," Pepper pointed out, but gently. "We may not be on the main path for anyone."

Tony nodded, reluctantly. "True. We'd do better with it if we were clear of the trees. I think we ought to do some more exploring tomorrow, and see if we can get higher. Wouldn't hurt to see the lay of the land, either."

"I . . ." Pepper began, and stopped.

Tony caught her hesitation, and he shifted, playing for a moment with one of the mirrors, making it flash out over the lagoon. "You don't think it's a good idea. You want to stay close to the beach and wait. Well I understand that, Potts, I do. I want to get rescued too, believe me. But knowledge is power, and I want to know this island. I want to _use_ this island and all the resources on it to get found ASAP."

"We've got so much, right here," Pepper responded quietly. "Water, food—I don't want to lose that, or you, Tony. Who _knows_ what's out there? Snakes, sinkholes, poisonous bugs—"

"—life is a matter of taking risks, and it always has been. No guarantees for any of it, even if we sat on the beach and twiddled our thumbs all day."

Tony let his words sink in and waited. He knew his argument was sound, and that Pepper knew it too; what she needed to do now as accept it.

And that _would_ be hard for her, Tony understood. Pepper was a pragmatic woman after all, and despite her cautious nature, she knew the odds of their situation as well. Her faith in him so far was a damned precious thing, and Tony valued that above everything else.

"I . . . get to set the agenda," Pepper countered quietly. "It's only fair."

"Just like old times?" Tony murmured a half-smile on his face. "You'll let me do foolish, dangerous things as long as I do them on_ your_ schedule, is that it?"

"Pretty much."

"I can live with that," he told her gently. "So what's up for today, Miss Potts?"

Pepper finally smiled, and motioned towards the fire. "Let's have some food and we'll talk, Mr. Stark."

They compromised; Tony agreed to another trip to the old house first for that afternoon, and a day after that to organize their supplies and do laundry. By the third, though, they would set off for a day's trek to reach the top of the waterfall and see if that was the highest point on the island.

"We ought to call this place something, too," Tony decided. "Island is pretty generic, and if I'm going to make a map of it, it's going to need a name."

"We are NOT calling it 'Starklandia,'" Pepper murmured, ladling another scoop of fruit soup into Tony's coconut hull cup.

He looked annoyed. "I _wasn't_ going to suggest that, although now that you mention it, it's got a nice ring."

"Surrrrre you weren't," Pepper accused him lightly, taking a sip of her breakfast. "If anything, we ought to call it Von Dressel, after the folks who were here first."

"That's so . . . Germanic," Tony complained, and drank down his cup, chewing the chunks of breadfruit. "I was thinking more of Isola del Pepe."

She shot him one of her patented Looks, and Tony could read her amused skepticism all through it. He grinned and translated. "Pepper Island. After all, you recovered first, and found me, so that makes you the first one here, outside of the Von Dressels."

"Naming this place after me is NOT going to butter me up in the least," Pepper assured him. "I'm not going to be susceptible to _that_ ploy."

"Ah," Tony sighed. "Fine. Still a good name though."

"_Faith, woman, you have no right to the very dress on your back and the meal in your belly. I am lord and master of this house, and more than your gratitude, which is but meanly given even now, I expect your loyalty, which should rise to me from the very marrow of your bones. Even now, I could but speak a word and have you whipped for your insolence._ Violent sort of guy, isn't he?"

Tony looked up from the page and over at Pepper, who was stretched out on the sand, hands behind her head, eyes closed, a smile curving her lips. The after-dinner fire cast a golden glow over her profile.

"He's a bastard," she agreed dreamily. "All her heroes are."

Tony turned the book and looked askance at the cover again. "He looks sort of . . . gay."

"Fashion of the time. I'm sure that's the Elizabethan version of YOU."

"I'm not gay and I'm not a bastard. At least, not as much as I _used_ to be," Tony argued. "Duke Anton here and I have _nothing _in common except maybe wealth and a healthy interest in seeing the opposite sex without clothes on."

"Hmmmm. Along with a tendency to _use _women, to indulge in vices when bored and take foolish risks all in the name of scientific curiosity," Pepper murmured. "Yep, nothing alike."

"Whereas you and Lady Ginellia are clearly twins of beauteous virtue," Tony smirked. "Both of you are—hang on, let me find that description again—" he thumbed back several pages, cleared his throat and read, _"--betressed with glorious locks of Titian hues, shades as rich and fire-tinted as the edges of a sunset._ Damn. Nineteen words just to say milady's a red-head--does Ms. St. Lavender get paid by the page or something?"

"It's _called _poetic license," Pepper sniffed. "And if you don't want to read it anymore, just tell me."

"No, no, I didn't' say _that,"_ Tony protested with good-humor. "Just pointing out that Gwen doesn't stint on the adjectives, that's all. Hey, is there sex in this book?"

*** *** ***

Pepper blushed. She avoided Tony's inquiring gaze and tried to sound nonchalant. "Um, yes. It _is_ a romance novel, you know."

"It is sexy sex, or is it just 'and then the fire flickered low' sorts of innuendo?" he probed further, once again thumbing through the book. "Because if it's all non-explicit, I may have to add in my *own* poetic license here."

"Stop skimming ahead—the sex is usually pretty steamy," Pepper chuffed. "In a tastefully erotic way."

"No porn words, huh?" Tony sighed. "Duke Anton isn't going to demand Lady Ginellia drop to her knees and blow his man-trumpet?"

It was almost too much for Pepper, and she fought back the urge to rise up, stalk over to Tony and tear _Moonlight's Sweet Savage Surrender_from his grip. Instead, she shot him a glare. "No, not in quite those terms."

"Ah," Tony nodded sagely. "So there _is_ a blowjob in the future of this story, just couched in more . . . Elizabethan language. Got it."

Pepper slowly sat up, brushing sand off of her and focusing on her irritation. It wasn't fair to start off by listen to Tony's reading and now get sidetracked by his sexual commentary, particularly since they were just about to hole up in the cabin for the night. She looked up at the sky, trying to relax.

Above them, the stars were out by the billions, looking like thick diamond dust across the velvet blackness, and Pepper didn't recognize any of the usual constellations above them. Tony followed her gaze and set the book down, scooting closer to her in quiet contemplation of the night sky.

"It really is gorgeous, especially free of light pollution," he murmured, arms resting on his knees.

Pepper nodded in agreement. "I bet the full moon is going to be stunning."

"We'll find out in the next two weeks or so," Tony observed, "Which brings me to a . . . delicate subject, Potts. A matter of lunar-synchronous biology?"

She said nothing, aware of what Tony was getting at, but the sweet little revenge of making _him_ uncomfortable for once was fun.

Petty perhaps, but fun.

Pepper turned and blinked at him, deliberately feigning misunderstanding. "Hmm?"

"Cycles?" Tony mumbled, actually looking massively embarrassed. "You know, Potts, the, um, process of women being . . . women?"

"As opposed to men being men, Mr. 'Let me borrow your panties' Stark? If you are asking about my menstrual period, just _say _so."

"Ahhh!" Tony yelped, his face twisting with mortified amusement. "Yes, okay, your period, Potts—any idea when it's due?"

Pepper pretended to think, looking up again into the night sky and let the seconds tick on. "Hmmmm, well, let's see. My last one was roughly three years ago, so it's safe to say . . . not for a while."

Tony rounded on her, his expression startled. "Three _years_ ago?"

"Um hmm," Pepper nodded matter-of-factly. "Side effect of Depo-Provera shots, the last of which I had before we took off for Southeast Asia. I think it's safe to say I won't be expecting a monthly visitor for probably a year or more, not that I want to be _here_ that long."

"You're on birth control. _Why_ are you on birth control?" Tony persisted, his expression intense. Pepper pulled back, feeling a sense of irritation and absurd flattery at his annoyance. It wasn't logical, but then again, a lot of her relationship with Tony Stark fell into that category, and if he ever _thought_ about what working for him entailed he'd have figured this out.

Clearly she was going to have to clue him in.

"Not that it's any of your business, Mr. Stark, but your daily agenda doesn't leave your employees a lot of free time. Rather than taking a few days off every month and risk getting behind on your schedules and business dealings, I figured eliminating the source of cramps and flow was probably easier on us both."

"Oh."

Pepper heard the first hint of an apology in that response. And possibly relief. Tony relaxed visibly. "That makes . . . sense."

"It's a practical arrangement. The nice ladies down at the infirmary in the main office of Stark Industries have my prescription on file, and I stop in once every three months for the shot. Barely takes two minutes out of the day."

"Do they think you and I--?" Tony asked, a little startled.

Pepper laughed. "Oh _please!_ They know _exactly_ why I'm getting the shots, and that it has nothing to do with romance on your part *or* mine."

Tony looked slightly deflated. "I see. Am I that much of a taskmaster, Potts? A total tyrant of your time?"

"The job of a personal assistant is to assist," she murmured in reply, bumping her shoulder against his. "I knew that when I agreed to take the position, Tony."

He still looked slightly stunned, and Pepper shot him a quick smile. "Don't worry; I've been on Depo for a while now, and I know I'm not going to have to worry about a period for a good long time, but—" and here she climbed to her feet and stretched. "—Thank you for asking. I think I'm going to go to bed now."

"Go ahead—I'll take care of the fire," he murmured, still slightly lost in thought, his fingers gripping the paperback.


	8. Chapter 8

**Moe atu nga ringa raupo**

_Marry a man with calloused hands_

Chapter Eight

The second trip to the house yielded more treasures, and both Tony and Pepper debated the merits and drawbacks of moving the wood burning stove as the primary point of contention. Tony was all for moving it; Pepper pointed out that it was too heavy and would need a chimney in any case.

Unspoken for the moment was the thought of clearing the house out and reclaiming it; neither of them said it out loud, but it weighed in their actions as they packed up extra dishes, more tools and a few interesting trinkets.

Tony didn't let Pepper go upstairs. He climbed up himself, and prowled around, deliberately thinking of other things as he moved through the two bedrooms there, and when he lowered himself down again, he felt another warning twinge in his shoulder. Pepper caught him rubbing it, and frowned.

"You're going to soak it in the pool when we're done here, and then you're taking more ibuprofen."

"Save it for when we really need it," he countered firmly. "I can work through aches."

She muttered something about stubbornness, but he followed her around the outside of the house and looked over to where the tool shed had been. Pepper pointed to something on the looked; saw nothing in particular. Pepper sighed noisily, and gestured again, this time at the bushes. "Pineapples, Tony. And wild mint. I think this must be part of a garden."

He nodded, and moved forward, looking at the thick plant and peering into it, where a heavy studded globe peeked out. "Great. More fruit. The carnivore in me is hoping maybe we can find some *ham* to go with this."

"Go fish," Pepper sighed. She knelt and began to pull on the pineapple when Tony glanced up and blinked.

A slow grin crossed his face, and he stared harder to make sure that what he saw was what he thought it was. Sauntering over, Tony reached over and pulled on part of the tall plant thriving in the sunshine, and whistled.

Pepper looked up, and he waved at the bush, his dimples deep. "Check it out— looks like Hans and Anna were growing their own ganja. Not very respectable for missionaries, huh?"

"What?" Pepper blinked, and her mouth dropped open for a moment. Then she laughed, softly. "You think they—no, Tony, I'm sure they grew it for the hemp. To make rope."

"Suuuure they did," he murmured. "Right."

"They're from the turn of the century, according to those coins we found," Pepper argued. "Before nylon and plastic. Hemp was the easiest most common plant for rope."

"And dope," Tony finished. "Oh I'm sure they called it medicinal even back then."

Pepper shrugged. "Given that aspirin and antibiotics were still cutting edge for the time, it probably was, Tony. The quality is probably pretty low if it's hemp."

"You sound a little bit *too* informed on the subject," Tony observed with amused suspicion. Pepper gave him her best bluffing stare, and continued to pull at the pineapple, twisting it until it came off in her hand. Satisfied, she tucked it into one of the plastic shopping bags, along with a few more avocados and some green bananas.

"Well?"

"Tony, I *did* mention I had an older brother, right?" Pepper replied with a small smile. "The wrestler?"

He nodded, interested now, and quickly connected the pieces. "Ah. And said brother indoctrinated innocent you on cannabis culture?"

"Not willingly, but with a smidge of blackmail, a curious little sister can get her way once in a while. And *that* is all I'm going to say on the matter," Pepper replied firmly. "One last look through the house?"

"Sure," he agreed. "I think—"

Whatever Tony thought was never vocalized; the sudden, lusty and unmistakable crow of a rooster echoed through the jungle, making both of them freeze. The sound came from close by, and Tony swiveled to follow it, his own voice low now, and intent.

"Chickens. Of course! Hans and Anna would have kept chickens. Ohhh Pepper, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If it's about chicken for dinner, then yes I am," she murmured back, "but we don't have anything to hunt it with, Tony."

"Yes we do," he replied firmly. "We're *smarter* than chickens, Miss Potts. We're going to look around and see if we can find any sites or places where they nest and roost. Then, I'm going to make a net."

"A net?" Pepper echoed with surprise. The rooster crowed again, and they both looked over towards the sound.

Tony managed a grin. "Keep it up, Chanticleer, because your days are numbered, pal. Yes, a net. Chickens are damned fast, and if we panic them, we'll end up out of breath and have nothing to show for it. But, if we can net one long enough to cover it, we'll *have* it."

"Do I *want* to know about your mad skills in chicken wrangling?" Pepper giggled. "You sound very confident there."

"No you don't, and I am. You don't get to where I am today without some really interesting experiences in life," Tony assured her. "College can teach a person *so* much more than the listed courses on a curriculum."

"So I would guess," she replied. "Tell you what—you can quietly stalk the rooster, and I'll take one last look around the living room, if you don't mind. It won't take long—at least not on my end."

Tony hesitated, and shot a longing look off in the direction of the bird. "Okay, but if you need me for ANYTHING Potts, whistle."

"Yes," she agreed. "I'll be back in ten minutes, right here."

Tony wasn't entirely comfortable with letting her out of his sight, even if they would still be within shouting distance, but the lure of chicken goaded him on, and he nodded with reluctance. "Ten minutes."

He watched her turn for the house, and then shifted himself, giving the hemp plant a quick glance; there would be time to collect a few dried leaves before they left the house, he'd make sure of that. With a quick grin, Tony set off in the direction of the last crowing, feeling anticipatory.

For a while he had no luck, and in the sleepy heat of mid-afternoon it seemed nothing was stirring. Tony pulled off his shirt and moved slowly through the brush, making it a point not to give off any predatory vibes. He scanned the ground, seeing a few traces of birds, and he crouched low, looking around carefully.

The hen was light brown, and only a few feet off to his left. Tony froze. She strutted, and he noted that she wasn't large, but she was plump, and he felt his mouth water a bit.

Tony watched as she moved across his path and disappeared into a little hollow in the underbrush, under a section of angled palm tree. He waited and after a few moments, Tony shifted to one side and peered in. The hen was pecking at the ground, within arm's reach, and he moved quickly, letting his reach skim the ground.

His hand grabbed one leg, and Tony hauled the hen out; she flapped and squawked, but he hung on, took his shirt and threw it over her and that was enough to quiet the bird. Carefully he wrapped the bird firmly, and pinned the lump against his chest, the arc pressing hard. "I'm so sorry Miss Hen, I am, but—"

With a wince, he caught her cloth-wrapped head and twisted it hard. A quick spasm and the bird quivered, going limp ten seconds later. Tony felt his gorge rise a bit; he wasn't fond of hunting or killing, even in necessity. The weight of the bird steadied him though, and Tony tucked the wrapped body under one arm, slowly sauntering back towards the house.

Pepper wasn't there at the back door, and Tony peered in, calling softly. "Pepper?"

"Here--" came her slightly distracted reply. He followed the sound of her voice, making his way past the stairs and down the hall to turn to the living room. Pepper was holding something square and fuzzy up to the light of the window, and Tony eyed it suspiciously.

"What's that?"

"This is a waterlogged, slightly moldy basket and I *hope* I can get this lid off . . ." Pepper replied absently, "Because I think—yes!"

She managed to pry the top up, and Tony could see the contents, which looked like a sea urchin and several wooden spools. Pepper picked up the urchin and held it like a prize. "Needles and pins! And scissors! Bless *you* Anna!" Turning to Tony, Pepper added, "Sewing basket. I guessed she'd have it near the window, for the best light."

Tony looked at Pepper, feeling a rise of warmth in response to the simple charm of her happiness. He gave a little smile and cleared his throat; when she looked at him, he murmured. "Chicken for dinner, too. We're having a good day, Miss Potts."

*** *** ***

Plucking the chicken proved to be time-consuming and disgusting, though not nearly as much as beheading and gutting it. Pepper muttered dire curses at Tony and managed to messily eviscerate the creature as she barely refrained from throwing up. "Next chicken, *you* clean!" she shouted at Tony, who was busily shaping a box frame of thin bamboo in the shade of the cabin.

"No, no, no, that's not how this gender role thing works. *I* hunt; *you* prepare," Tony called back. "It's all well-documented, Pepper."

Her response was a highly vulgar term inviting her boss to perform a crude physical act upon himself; hearing Pepper use a four letter word left Tony laughing aloud and ready to dodge any chicken guts flung his way.

Fortunately it didn't come to that.

To make up—partially--for all the work Pepper put into the dinner, Tony industriously gathered and cut up firewood, stacking it neatly, and spent an hour sand-scrubbing all the silverware.

All the effort was worth it when Pepper managed to cut the chicken into quarters, broiling them in the Dutch oven along with chunks of pineapple and some mashed up breadfruit. By then the sun had begun to set, and the scent of chicken was driving Tony a little crazier than usual; he hung over her shoulder as she poked a drumstick and studied the juice. " Smells right, and the juice is clear, so it's cooked through, I guess—will you back UP, Tony?"

"Hungry," he admitted, batting his eyes at her. "My inner carnivore is growling."

Pepper waved a fork at him. "Your outer carnivore is about to be punctured if you don't go sit *down* and wait, politely."

"Grrr," Tony sighed mournfully, and did as directed, settling on one of the life vests as a cushion. He gave Pepper his best puppy look as she brought over a plate in one hand, fork in the other.

"Eat," she ordered sweetly. "And don't ask for salt or barbeque sauce because so help me I will *smack* you!"

Tony didn't reply; his mouth was already full.

Pepper took a lesser portion and came over to sit next to him; they ate quietly for a while, and even though the chicken was slightly burnt and a little gamey, the pineapple flavored it well. Tony finished his first serving, and his second, then scooped up the rest of the breadfruit chunks, washing them down with one of the bottles of water. Pepper finished the drumstick and thigh she'd served herself and smiled at him. "I take it your inner carnivore is sated for the moment?"

"For the moment," he agreed, giving a gusty sigh that was almost but not quite, a belch. "Frankly, I'm well-pleased with this hunter role; I think it suits me." Tony tossed some branches on the fire, ambled back, sprawled on the sand, and dropped his head into Pepper's lap.

She set her plate aside and looked down at him, amusement and annoyance in balance. "Comfortable, Mr. Stark?"

"Extremely," Tony admitted in his shameless way. "Want to hear my epic saga of the hunt?"

"You stuck your arm in a hole and pulled out a chicken," Pepper murmured. "Anything else is embellishment."

"Pffft, you say that like it's a bad thing," came the slightly sulky tone. "I thought you *liked* tales of romance."

"Tony, using the words 'romance' and 'chicken' in the same story is just so very, very wrong, unless your name is Gonzo."

The smolder from the fire had thickened slightly, and now held a slightly sweet and unmistakable aroma. Pepper glared down at Tony, who smirked. "You didn't."

"Hey, smoking after dinner is another fine old tradition."

"You'll get the munchies," she warned, "and all we have left is fruit."

"I'll risk it."

"Of course you will," Pepper smirked down at him, and stroked his hair gently. "You're just intrigued because I've had life experiences you knew nothing about."

"Of course, yes," Tony murmured, his eyes closing in pleasure. Pepper's hand along his hair felt good. Her thighs under his head felt good. "The fact that you've toked up is so at odds with your general demeanor. First the romance novels and now this—Potts, you are woman of many facets."

"If this is your way of buttering me up so I continue to do all the cooking . . ." Pepper told him softly, "I have news for you, oh Mighty Hunter. Next chicken, you can pluck off."

This struck Tony as funny, and he chuckled, spluttering a little. He felt great; full, relaxed and on the edge of a little buzz, all of it good, especially with Pepper raking her long fingers along his scalp. "But you cook so *well,*" he pointed out. "Keeping the two of us from the jaws of starvation."

"There *is* that," she agreed, smiling, "I'd hate to have to resort to cannibalism, Mr. Stark—you're just too pretty to skin."

"Absolutely. And I'm tough," Tony lifted an arm and flexed the muscle for her. "Right in the prime of my chicken-hunting days."

"So why aren't you doing your dance of victory?" Pepper teased. "You know, re-enacting that epic saga of the hunt all around the fire?" She stopped petting his hair, which was getting shaggy, and took another breath of the smoke.

It *was* potent stuff, Pepper realized. Years of wild cultivation had probably amped up the THC in the hemp, and although she didn't want to admit it, the sweet little high felt . . . comfortable. Of course it had been decades since she'd last done anything like this; common sense and maturity had helped, but for the moment, this wasn't bad, and Pepper felt mellow.

"I don't dance. At least, I don't dance *alone,*" Tony muttered, pulling her back to the conversation. "Tough to do without music, anyway."

"You didn't just catch a chicken, you *are* a chicken," Pepper told him, and shifted to stand. Grumpily Tony gave up the pillow of her thighs, rolling to his side as she rose up and stretched. Pepper moved closer to the fire pit and rolled her shoulders, feeling impish. With a graceful spin, she brought both arms up over her head and swung her hips, moving them in a slow gyration.

"I don't have my zils anymore, or music, buuuuuuut—" Pepper hummed, doing lazy circles with her pelvis. "A belly dance of celebration is in order."

She felt her muscles relax a little, and shifted in the sand, trying to remember some of the basic moves from the class, and imagining the music in her head. The sinuous flow came back, and Pepper gave a slow sweep with her arms, snapping her fingers and following the swing of her hips as she turned from the sweet smoke to face Tony.

Pepper expected him to laugh, or at least grin, but instead he was staring up at her, stunned, drinking in her every sensual move with mesmerized intensity. Tony's mouth was open slightly, and the glitter in his dark eyes left her feeling a little breathless; a little achy.

"Are you going to dance?" Pepper asked, trying to sound silly. Her voice came out husky though, and Tony moaned softly.

"You're . . ." he sighed and gave up. "Wannnnt."

"Dance," Pepper ordered with a giggle, holding a hand out to him. Tony took it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. He used the forward momentum from her tug, and slid his arms around Pepper, lurching recklessly into her space, his form colliding with hers. She tried to back up, but Tony caught her hips in his hands as much to steady himself as to caress them, and gave another happy groan.

"Mmmmmmbelly to belly. Nniiice," Tony managed, his own voice unsteady. Pepper gave another roll of her hips, and pressed of her torso against Tony's warm, solid and unmistakably male one; the shifted dance into something far more intimate and urgent.

They swayed together by the fire, and Pepper hummed, her arms entwining around Tony's shoulders. The slow slide of their bodies against each other made it hard to think, and between the smoke and the dancing, Pepper felt thick pangs of desire flare up within her again, reckless and impossible to deny.

_Tony was right_, she thought. _Waaaant._

"Lovethis,lovedancing,love—" Tony tried to say, but blindly Pepper cut him off with a kiss, as much to stop the words as anything else. While it *did* halt Tony from speaking, the hot delicious *shock* of his mouth against hers made Pepper groan with giddy thrill, and she smiled against his lips.

Tony tasted delicious, even with the tang of chicken and pineapple, and while Pepper had always suspected the man had some talent in kissing, she wasn't quite prepared for the seductively innocent play of his tongue with hers, or the sexy slide of his palms up her spine, tickling each knob of backbone through her shirt as he purred.

They didn't talk, nor did they have to; the sweet and urgent focus of kissing took all their attention, and for a timeless while, Pepper lost herself in the thrill of it, trying to give as good as she got, a challenge she was more than ready for. She wriggled, feeling more aroused with every playful suckle and bite.

When she caught his earlobe in her teeth, Tony chuffed, the sound a long pleasured whimper. Pepper sucked.

"Ahhhhhhgnnnghnono*no!* Pepper!" came his slightly anguished gulp as he rocked against her with increasing vigor.

Pepper breathed hotly in his ear. "You mean *yess,* Pepper."

"Ssssssssshit." Tony convulsively gripped her ass, shuddering, and instantaneously she felt the sudden seep of wet heat along one of her thighs where he was pressed hard against her.

Startled, Pepper tensed, and a thousand different responses flashed through her mind at this development. Smiling though, she lazily licked his ear and laughed, very softly. "Ooooh, I think that was . . . the climax of the dance, wasn't it?"

"Pepper--" Tony whispered miserably. "I'm sorry! I just—ears, and then you, oh God, hips and I don't—I AM better at this, I *swear!*"

"Shhhhhh. I know," she told him gently, arms tightening around him. "It's okay. Very . . . flattering."


	9. Chapter 9

**He tangata kii tahi **

_(A leader is) A man who speaks once_

Chapter Nine

For a moment he clung to her, burying his face in the warm crook of her neck, and Tony wanted like hell to stay there, comforted and forgiven, but he couldn't, and he knew it.

The desire to prove himself; to reciprocate made Tony lift his face and sigh, then kiss Pepper gently. "Flattering is a lie; disappointing is more accurate."

"Tony--" Pepper murmured her breath against his cheek. "Please, it's okay."

He steered her away from the fire, herding her past the lifejacket seats and towards the cabin, never letting his arms around her loosen. "No it's not, but I *know* how to start fixing things. This way--"

"Tony . . . um, the dishes . . ." Pepper protested, trying to look over his shoulder, her expression a comical blend of prim and languid all in one. Just to make his point, Tony cupped the back of her neck with his hand and kissed her, hard.

"Dishes can wait. Fire is fine," he rumbled, pulling back reluctantly. "*You,* on the other hand, need attention."

It was the right thing to say, and Pepper's glance fluttered to his; blue eyes bright in the reflected glow of the firelight. He tipped his head and let his lips graze from her soft cheek to her ear. "Let me. Please, Pepper," Tony whispered into it.

"I really . . ." came her soft murmur, but her arms tightened around him, and Tony sensed her tacit permission to continue. He lifted her up the little step into the cabin and followed, crowding Pepper backwards until they both landed on the mattress together.

"We're all sandy—"

"Brushes off. Like this," Tony told her, and let his hand stroke along Pepper's stomach in a slow glide. He shifted the two of them until Pepper lay on her back and he rested on his side, hand continuing to caress the length of her torso, moving the stroking over her Hawaiian shirt in unhurried fashion. Leaning over, Tony kissed her, his mouth light and teasing. Pepper took the invitation and giggled again, making him aware she'd inhaled much more than he had.

That amused Tony, and he chuckled back against her lower lip. "You're *high,* Pepperpot," he muttered indistinctly.

"So are you, Tony the Tiger."

"Yep," he agreed. It was the easiest thing to say, and the truth to boot, but it wasn't going to stop him from making Pepper go ballistic, even if it took him all night. Tony increased the intensity of his stroking, and on the third one, let his hand slide up under her shirt, against the warm muscle of her stomach.

Both of them shivered with pleasure, and Tony marveled in the lean softness of her skin under his palm. He'd seen flashes of Pepper's pale, pretty stomach since the crash; close proximity had given him opportunity, but the added sensory thrill of touch made him purr. "Someone does crunches."

Pepper giggled again, and Tony loved the sexy sound of it in the dark. He stroked the long warmth of her abdomen, letting his index finger circle her navel a few times. "I found the *second* place on you I want to kiss."

"You'll get sand on your lips," Pepper pointed out in a whisper. "And with that mustache of yours, I'll go crazy."

"Settles it. *Definitely* kissing your belly button, then."

"Don't you *dare!*" Pepper tried to sit up, but Tony shifted more quickly than she could, and flipped up the bottom of her shirt. With uncanny accuracy in the darkness, he pressed his mouth to the small hollow in the middle of her exposed waist, tongue flicking in.

Pepper squealed, and she tried to push Tony away, but she was laughing too much and he had one arm braced along her ribcage to fend her off. Tony kissed her belly button lovingly, and then promptly stuck his nose into it. "No sand, no lint, just youuuuu," he announced, and the brush of his bristles set off another spasm of squeaking from Pepper.

"St-st-stop! I can't *breathe!*" she wheezed, one slender fist lightly pounding on Tony's back. He ignored her assault and promptly began to lasciviously lick around her navel, occasionally dipping into it, his concentration on keeping his beard from scraping her.

Pepper tasted divine, and Tony felt a serious surge of re-interest from his loins as he dallied over the satiny sweetness under his lips. Gently, slowly he moved in a southerly direction, aware that he was about to hit waistband, and hoping like hell Pepper wouldn't notice if he just casually moved it back.

Her hands stopped smacking his back and began to stroke it instead, moving gently over his shoulder blades. Tony liked the mutual grooming sensation, and nosed his way further south, working fingers under the elastic in a gradual fashion. Pepper gave a happy hum, hips shifting restlessly, and that was enough encouragement for Tony to let his touch reach further down.

The first delicate curls met his fingertips and he worked to keep his cool, toying gently with them, light little strokes along the top of her unbelievably soft fur. A line of kisses down the convex cradle of Pepper's hips and the scent of her arousal--musky and sweet, like sexual nectar—made Tony grunt softly.

"You have a lot of muscles on your back," Pepper murmured. "Really. A lot."

"Mmmmm," he agreed, much more interested in the damp and fluffy tangle beckoning his nose. Tony nuzzled the waistband lower, letting his breath warm Pepper's bikini line. He felt breathless and hyper focused; teen-age horny for the first time in years and the sensation was colored with another startling emotion:

Happiness.

"Tony--" Pepper murmured, and he heard the first edges of doubt in her tone. To counteract that, he skimmed his palm through the fluff, cupping it possessively. Pepper gave a little 'Oooh!' and arched up instinctively, making him smirk broadly in the dark.

"Little wild thing," he crooned, and tenderly shifted his fingers, finding the hidden seam of her sex, feeling heat, humid and slick under his touch. "Pretty pretty . . ."

"I . . ." Pepper tried to speak, but her body moved restlessly under his deft caress, and when Tony slid his index finger in a whisper of a stroke over the taut bud nestled between her thighs, she tensed, knees rising protectively.

"Niiiice, Pepperpot. Very sexy," came his reassuring murmur. Tony moved slowly, tugging the boxers down to her knees and lightly pushed her thighs wider. The reward came when she slowly opened them. He didn't need light, although Tony wanted to see Pepper very much, and decided their next time would be on the tablecloth out by the fire.

He toyed lightly, moving his fingers through the slickness, and with delicacy, shifted his thumb and index finger to rub in opposite directions around the stiff nub. Pepper shuddered, her hands scrabbling along his back now, clinging to him as she whimpered. "OhhhhhhTonyyyyyy!" came her low cry. He kept up the gentle caress and let his cheek rest on her stomach, all the better to feel the tension building there.

This was sexy and fun and Tony slowed down, waiting a few moments before starting again, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, first.

*** *** ***

Pepper found it hard to breathe. It wasn't Tony's weight along her stomach or the warmth of the night; no it had a lot more to do with the maddening stop and go touch of the man's hand between her legs. Over the years she'd guiltily wondered how much of Tony Stark's sexual reputation was based on fact, and at the moment, Pepper could vouch that yes, all of it was true. Tony *was* good at foreplay; damned good.

Pepper fretted. She tried to shift away from Tony, but her traitorous hips lifted up again, moving against his hand in a quick rhythm now, and thinking wasn't happening, not with Tony's hot breath tickling through her curls and his fingers sliding *juuuuuust* right in a frustrating little dance that had her on the verge of insanity. She gave a squeaky growl, and grabbed his hair, aware that she was being pushy and demanding now, but unable to stop herself because it felt *SO* good, ALLL about feeling now—

She tensed, hard, and the shivery joy of orgasm washed through her like one of the ocean waves, arcing and exploding in a fluid rush of pleasure pulsing through her so strongly that Pepper felt her heart pound. The moan rising out of her echoed in the cabin, and when Pepper drew a shuddery breath, she felt a lot like a spent wave herself; foamy and placid.

For an impish moment, she was glad Tony was resting on her, anchoring her down because if he hadn't been, Pepper felt like she might have dripped off the edges of the mattress. She lay there, boneless and content for a moment, not sure of what to say, or even do.

_How do you thank your employer for sexing you down so well?_ Pepper wondered, smirking in the dark. Before she'd thought of a way to say thank you though, she fell asleep.

She woke up in a sudden blink, and the sunshine visible through the open door told her it was mid-morning now. Pepper shifted, and the flood of memory came in a rush of sensation.

_Ohgod. I did things— _Pepper bit her lips. She looked over where Tony lay sprawled out next to her, face buried in the pillow, and it dawned on Pepper that he still had his jeans on.

She slowly sat up, not wanting to wake him. Slinking away seemed cowardly, but Pepper wasn't ready for whatever Tony might have wanted to say or, God, *do,* right then, so she slipped out, intending to head to the waterfall pool. A swim and a scrub would help her sort things out, she knew, or at least buy her time. Moving by habit, Pepper pulled the tablecloth off the small clothes line, and looked over at the fire pit, wincing.

Dirty dishes sat in the sand, and already ants were hard at work on some of the chicken bones. And a smallish coconut crab was dragging off what looked like the unfinished section of her drumstick. Pepper made a moue and flicked the tablecloth at it, but the coconut crab merely scuttled a few feet and settled back to the meal.

She sighed, shot a worried look back at the cabin, and took off through the trees, thoughts tumbling around in her head like pebbles in a can: noisy and irritating. The path was familiar now, and Pepper barely needed the rope to guide her along. She reached the ledge of the pool, stripped down quickly and dropped herself into the water, welcoming the punishing chill as she shivered and splashed her arms.

It had been a fluke, she decided. A moment of weakness on both their parts, brought on by full stomachs, a hint of weed and a lapse into familiarity. Not an unexpected development by any means, but Pepper felt that the less said, the sooner they could both get back to a reasonable relationship.

The problem with all *that,* she realized with rueful honesty and annoyance, was that it wasn't going to happen. Tony Stark was not a man who would put anything he didn't *want* to behind him, especially not an erotic encounter.

Especially, she sighed for a moment in remembered pleasure, a really *GOOD* encounter. Her skin tingled, and not just from the temperature of the water. Guiltily, Pepper ducked under and got the rest of herself soaked. She scrubbed up with some of the clean sand, and swam over to the waterfall, climbing carefully on the ledge under it. The rocks there were flat but slick, and Pepper got herself balanced before letting the water stream over her.

She finger combed her hair, fighting the tangles and considered giving herself a mashed avocado conditioning for it. As Pepper turned around, blinking, she caught sight of Tony standing on the far bank, watching her, and shrieked. "Tony!"

"Just enjoying the view!" he called back, hands cupped around his mouth. "Massively, I might add!"

"Tony, turn around *RIGHT* now!" Pepper yelled back, trying to cover herself as she turned away.

Across the pool, Tony seemed to adore the backside of her just as much, and whistled. "But there's so much to appreciate!"

"Tony, STOP!" Pepper bellowed, her spine to him, voice going thin and high over the splashing water. "I can't take this! I know we're in a bizarre situation, and I know we've both had to make sacrifices, but I'm *trying* to keep things as normal as I can, and you're NOT making it EASY!"

"No need to yell, Pepperpot, I'm right here," came Tony's voice as he pulled himself up onto the ledge next to her. Pepper gasped at his nearness, his *nudity,* and lost her balance; with a windmill of arms, she toppled off the ledge and into the water with a resounding splash.

Coming back up was a nightmare; Tony was standing there unself-consciously, laughing. "That was hysterical—do it again!"

Pepper treaded water, her expression mulishly furious, long hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. "Tony, turn AROUND!"

"Why?" he demanded. "It's not like you haven't seen me au naturale before."

"Because you are . . . making assumptions!" Pepper called desperately. "Assumptions about you and me, and the nature of our relationship!"

"Assumptions that include nudity," he added helpfully. "All for it, yep."

"We DON'T have that kind of relationship, Mr. Stark!" Pepper snapped as she treaded water. It was difficult to try and sound commanding while doing so. "We are professionals and associates!"

Tony looked askance; no mean feat as he stood there naked, water splashing off his shoulders to glitter over the arc between his puckered nipples. Pepper tried to keep her gaze on his face.

Tried, anyway.

*** *** ***

Tony tried to figure out exactly *why* Pepper was yammering on about professionalism when it was pretty clear there was nothing objective about the way she was staring at him. Cold water be damned, he *and* his body were both enthusiastic about Miss Potts in the buff, and the only drawback was the distance between them.

"Yes we are," he told her. "And I'd like to think that while those are still commendable aspects of our association, I feel that the events of last night have accelerated our rapport to a new and thrilling level."

Reluctantly Pepper moved closer, clinging to one of the ledge rocks now since treading was tiring. Tony reached down and lightly held out a hand, waiting to see if she would take it or not. Pepper hesitated, but finally blinked, and reached up to let her grip lock with his.

Tony hauled her up onto the flat rock again, bringing her into his arms as he steadied her balance, his support secure despite the rushing water all around them. He felt the tension in Pepper's lithe frame, and to help alleviate it, he stepped back to rest against the rocky wall behind the waterfall, bringing her with him.

Her cool slippery body against his felt great, and Tony wrapped his arms around Pepper, marveling at how easily she fit into his embrace. The rocks at his back were chilly, but things in front were warming up nicely, being skin to skin and damned *nice* skin at that.

He stared Pepper in the eyes, loving the way her slick, coppergold hair clung in wet curlicues along her temples, and the way the water made her eyelashes dark. Droplets rolled down her cheeks, and it took him a moment to realize they were tears.

Panic slammed his gut. "Pepper! No—what's wrong? Pepper?"

She tried to speak, but her mouth couldn't form words, and crumpled up instead as she closed her eyes and shuddered in his arms. Tony held her more tightly, feeling a cold wash of terror now, his mind running through every worst case scenario he could think of, from cancer to lesbianism. Soothingly, he tried to rub her back.

Abruptly, Pepper surged forward and crushed his lips with hers, kissing him ferociously. Her momentum made him slam back against the rocks and it hurt, but Tony dismissed that minor pain for the greater gain of her mouth plundering his. Fear blinked out, and he kissed her in return, hungrily letting her sweet tongue probe deep.

Never in a million years had Tony Stark considered Pepper Potts capable of coming on so aggressively, and he moaned, *loving* the sensation. Lean, mean Miss Potts was one wicked kisser, and given the grind of her firm belly against his, things were going from waterfall cool to steam very damned quickly.

"Yes, yesss, ohyeah—!" he managed thickly between kisses. "Are you . . . ?"

Pepper caught his cheeks in her cool hands, and her eyes fairly blazed as she breathed in his face. "Listen to me. I need you, and you need me, Tony. It's not a matter for debate; it's a hard fact. So until such time as the two of us manage to get off this island, then yes, we have a new . . . *rapport.* Got it?"

"Got it," Tony shot back, swallowing hard, feeling like his chest was about to explode behind his arc. Pepper: beautiful, stubborn, sexy and giving him orders—

She kissed him again, reaching down between their bodies, and Tony's moan was muffled against her mouth when Pepper's fingers curled around his erection, her grip making him rock his hips towards her.

The sudden flicker and splash of a fish going over the falls startled them both, and Pepper laughed, glancing up towards the water curtain that hid them from the pond. "Whoops!"

"Not here," Tony ordered. "Come on—" He tugged her hand free of his shaft and pulled her with him into the water, both of them tumbling in and splashing around for a moment. Tony herded her towards the shallow side of the pond where their clothes lay, but instead of climbing out of the water, he reached for Pepper and picked her up.

She gasped, but Tony murmured reassuring tones and Pepper shifted in his hold, clinging to him, long wet legs wrapping around his hips as he lifted her higher and kissed her hungrily.

Standing in thigh-deep water was a hell of a position to consummate a relationship, and yet Tony knew that this moment of power and grace was exactly what needed to happen. Holding Pepper; steadying her as she looped her hands around the back of his neck and whimpered his name against his mouth left Tony feeling like a god. Her firm ass in his hands, and the hot squeeze between Pepper's thighs as he drove himself into her—

They both cried out in that first thrust, their voices mingling with the soft rumble of the waterfall and the soft susurration of the tall jungle trees around them. Tony rocked, lifting Pepper, holding her as she rode him hard. Laughing, sobbing, finally arching her long throat and keening sweetly as her hard nipples scraped his chest and his arc ground into her solar plexus, Pepper cried out his name.

He came, hard, a low, happy roar shaking both their frames as Tony tightened his palms around Pepper's ass and gushed inside her, his wet heat joining with hers; claiming this woman in the most primal way. _The perfect way_, Tony dimly thought as he sighed with pleasure and nuzzled her neck. She was resting her head on his shoulder, soft and relaxed now, a slight weight he knew he could carry forever.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Taku hei piripiri, taku hei mokimoki, taku hei tawhiri, taku kati taramea**__:_

My clinging necklace, my sweet-scented neck chain, my fragrant gum, my calabash of sweetest scent.

Maori proverb

Chapter Ten

"Okay, *that* was pretty studly," Pepper murmured after a while, shifting languidly to unwrap herself from him. Tony squatted, bringing them both into the water, and she wriggled, dismounting with a wry grin. Tony rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder, then moved to quickly kiss Pepper, his own grin accented with dimples.

"Load-bearing lovemaking, ohyeah. It's the way Maasai warriors do it. Looks like I'm in the club now."

Pepper laughed sweetly. "I thought you had to be at least six foot two and drink cow blood mixed with milk to be a Maasai warrior." As she spoke, she ducked under the water and picked up a handful of scrubbing sand.

Tony laughed, and reached to rinse his softening erection, splashing his furry groin with water. "Those are the incidentals. Pepper—" his tone changed; became more serious.

She paused, mid-sand scrub along her arms, and Tony looked at her for a long moment before he spoke. "I want to hold you, and go back to the cabin and get in bed with you and sleep. Is . . . is that okay?"

He looked so uncertain that Pepper felt a rush of pain, and she blinked hard to drive it away. "It's more than okay. I'd . . . like that."

Tony's mouth quirked and he gave a quick nod, relieved.

They dried and dressed, heading back along the trail to the cabin, not speaking much. The closer they got to the beach, the quicker their steps, and by the time they reached the sand, Tony scooped Pepper up. She gave a purr of pleasure and kissed him, teeth nipping a little this time.

Tony waltzed them around the fire pit and towards the cabin, already tugging at Pepper's Hawaiian shirt while she slid her hands into his shorts.

"Ack! Cold fingers!" he grumbled playfully.

"They'll warm up quickly," Pepper assured him, peeling off his underwear with alacrity. "Shoes—"

With fumbling haste they managed to strip down and clamber onto the mattress, bumping, apologizing, and kissing in the cool darkness. Tony stretched out and welcomed Pepper into his arms; she slid along his body, kissing her way up his shoulder and side of his neck with warm enthusiasm.

"You are *incredibly* bristly," Pepper murmured between caresses. "Very caveman, Tony."

"Genetics," he sighed, holding her and rolling them both over so that he had her pinned under him. "And lack of shaving equipment. We've got better things to talk about right now---"

"Mmmhmmm," she agreed, feeling a sense of impishness as she wriggled under him. The freedom to *have* Tony was nothing short of amazing, and Pepper let herself take advantage of it, if only for the moment, pushing aside the mental repercussions in favor of feeling her boss up.

He seemed to approve, grinding against her and nipping at her neck. "You're *goosing* me, Miss Potts!"

"Secretly? I've always wanted to, Mr. Stark. You have a very nice backside," Pepper told him, squeezing his buttocks affectionately.

"I had *no* idea you've been ogling me," Tony muttered, astonished. "Seriously, how long has *this* been going on?"

As he spoke, Tony slid one cool hand up her stomach to cup her breast in a gentle caress, and Pepper moaned, arching up into his hand.

"Less talk," she requested huskily, "More . . ."

". . . yeahhh," he agreed, and circled his thumb around her nipple.

Pepper wasn't sure exactly how many orgasms she had; the day faded into the afternoon, and the sweet, slow, rollercoaster of pleasure had her feeling by turns languid and hungry.

Tony was so much more than she expected, and at the same time, still so endearingly, frustratingly himself that she laughed and took her time surprising him. For all his reputation as a ladies' man he was sweetly considerate at times, and Pepper found that there were certain things he definitely *liked* when it came to lovemaking; positions and embellishments she happily filed away as she indulged in the simple joy of exploring him.

He seemed determined to wring every last sigh of pleasure from her, and Pepper wasn't sure how to deal with that single-minded intensity when applied to both of them, but Tony was more than willing to follow her lead, and then shift and take it himself at other times, which suited her just fine.

They stumbled out of the cabin just before sunset, yawning and stretching. Pepper looked over the mess of the fire pit and sighed, mentally calculating what needed to be done first: dishes to be picked up, fire restarted, pot scrubbed out and sand swept clean of the bones that the ants and crabs had picked clean. She took the pot off the hanging hook and began to carry it down to the water's edge, but Tony took it and bent to kiss her at the same time, his quiet smirk enough to make her blush again.

He looked good in nothing but jeans, his arc glowing in the sunset, hair and beard looking tousled. Pepper let Tony take the pot, lingering to watch his cute backside, and turned her attention to the campsite. It took a moment, but she realized the forks were missing. She looked around and noted a few tracks in the sand; crab marks by the look of them.

Pepper gave a little growl, and retrieved the silverware from the fronds of the nearest coconut tree, wondering if Tony liked his crab steamed, or roasted.

*** *** ***

Tony looked up from the map he'd sketched on a torn out blank end page of _Vierhwirtschaft, _trying to think if he'd left out any detail of the island. In the last six weeks, he and Pepper had explored most of Isola de Pepe, and established a few facts about their habitat. He stared at the page, thinking hard.

From what he knew so far, the lagoon was the only landing point on the island; they'd hiked to the edges and found almost all the other sides of the island were cliffs dropping off into the sea. The highest point was a low mountain that had probably been a volcano at some century past but now was covered in vegetation. When they'd climbed it, he'd been careful to check the air and ground, but there was no smell of sulphur, and no residual heat.

The view from the top was magnificent, and disheartening at the same time; off a few miles to the north lay a smaller island, but other than that, only endless miles of blue, glittering sea lay all around them. The sky stretched overhead, and Tony had wished heartily that he knew more about celestial navigation, because he still had no idea where they were.

Pepper had tried to be upbeat, but Tony could see the discouragement in her eyes, and that had nearly killed him right there, because disappointing her was against his personal code now.

So he'd renewed his promise to get them off the island even if he had to build a Suit out of nothing but bamboo and coconut shells, and that had made Pepper laugh. They'd eaten lunch and hiked the three hours back to the beach, debating the dinner merits of steamed mussels versus poi pancakes with pineapple chunks the entire way.

He smiled, remembering too, how after dinner, she had pinned him up against the hull of the cabin and ordered him not to move as she undid his pants and took him into her mouth, humming the entire time.

That magnificent pleasure had certainly helped him feel better about the hike to the top of Mt. Highup, as they'd decided to call it.

Life with Pepper Potts was full of surprises like that, and Tony found himself continually astonished by aspects of her that he'd never known before. The privilege to learn about the *real* Virginia Isabella Potts had him by turns amused, perplexed, annoyed and through it all, aroused as well.

The unique prospect of loving one woman, one *particular* woman, was the only good thing out of the entire ordeal here, and the most amazing surprise to Tony was how utterly *right* it felt to be Pepper's partner in every sense of the word.

Shaking himself out of his momentary reverie, Tony dipped the twig into the sludgy ash and water mix in the coconut shell and made the N on the drawn compass a bit clearer. He blew on the page to let it dry, and stared at it, noting the details. The lagoon; the Von Dressel house and barn; the waterfall and pool; the mountain . . . all of it here on an island barely a mile and a half wide. He twiddled the twig between his fingers.

"How far north of us would you say the other island is, Pepper?" He called, glancing towards the nest of lifejackets under the coconut trees where she sat cross-legged, weaving palm fronds.

"At least a mile and a half," Pepper muttered, fingers moving dexterously through the green strips. Her early attempts had been lopsided and loose, but with each new project she was getting better, and the coolie hat in her hands actually looked like what it was supposed to be.

"Think we could raft over to it?"

"Think not," she countered. "First of all, we'd have to negotiate our way through the lagoon, and then through the rushing channel out to the ocean, and *then* we'd have to paddle north along the cliff line before we'd even see the other island, Tony. Not to mention we have no idea what the currents are like, or if there's anything worth going over there *for* in the first place. With our luck there wouldn't be any fresh water and we'd end up dehydrated or dead."

He sighed. "You're probably right. Speaking of water, I should check the fish traps."

"Good idea," Pepper looked up and smiled. "After all, it's your turn to cook."

Tony perked up a bit and set the map aside carefully, then got to his feet and reached for his sneakers, which were showing signs of wear now. He slipped them on. "In the mood for a bet, island wife?"

"You're on, island husband," Pepper snorted back. "I'm laying odds that you'll have one measly sunfish and nothing else but snails in them."

"And *I'm* positive I'll be hauling at least *one* catfish for charbroiling in banana leaves, yum, yum." He responded cheerfully, rising up and dusting off his backside. Tony's boxers were looser now, and sun bleached, but his initial sunburn had faded to a golden tan, and bare-chested, his muscles stood out, corded and strong. "When I win, I want some wine with dinner, and a nice long game of Truth or Dare--the adult version."

Pepper laughed softly. "And when *I* win, I want you to be my naked slave boy for the rest of the evening, Mr. Stark."

Tony blinked. "Damn it, island wife, stop doing that. Now I'm torn between having a decent dinner, or having a very *in*decent one with lusty benefits!"

"Suffer," Pepper told him. "And fill some water bottles while you're there."

He pointed a finger at her accusingly, and sauntered to the shaded side of the cabin, where the empty water bottles stood waiting. Tony scooped them up and looked out over the lagoon. "Wind's getting stronger."

"Rain," Pepper predicted. "By morning. I'll go for mangos while you're at the lagoon."

Tony nodded as he loaded the empty bottles in a shopping bag. "Whistle if you need me."

Pepper smirked; her capacity to produce a piercingly loud whistle that carried for miles was one of the few talents she had that Tony envied. Carefully she slipped the finished coolie hat onto her head. "How do I look?"

Tony shot her a glance and grinned. "Deliciously cute, of course. So when do *I* get one?"

"Yours is next," she assured him cheerily. "I'll start after I get the mangos."

"Can't wait, fashion plate," Tony told her, and headed off down the lagoon path.

*** *** ***

Pepper watched him go, feeling a welling of tenderness that she tried to dismiss and couldn't. The past month and a half had revealed facets of the man that she'd only suspected existed, and seeing Tony--*loving* Tony-- for himself alone was a revelation.

He needed her and wasn't shy about admitting it, verbally or physically, and Pepper loved the gentle possessive way he curled around her at night now. They still sparred and argued; possibly MORE so, but their disagreements didn't last long.

Usually.

Pepper found herself being much more . . . direct, these days. She liked being able to speak her mind, and while Tony teased her about being queen of the island, she appreciated the way he took her suggestions and observations to heart.

"_I knew you were smart when I hired you, Miss Potts," he'd said after one discussion, "Good to see the investment paying off. Makes you that much sexier."_

"_All you *ever* think about is sex."_

"_With good reason," he had told her. "Look who I get to plug."_

"_That's crude, Tony," Pepper had objected through her faint grin. "Even for you."_

"_Fine. Look who I get to lie under, panting, while she pins me down and makes me begggggg for orgasm. Damn it, I'm turning myself on now."_

"_Later,"_ she'd purred at him, and blushed even now at the memory.

Grinning to herself, Pepper worked a long orange strand of the nylon rope into the coolie hat and tied it under her chin, then got up. She stacked the life jackets neatly, and strolled down to the waterline, delighted in the way the wide rim of her new creation cut the glare of sunlight from her field of vision.

_Definitely a useful skill_, she thought to herself with a little pride, and added to the list. In addition to weaving, Pepper had picked up fish and game cleaning, open water laundry and coconut tree climbing in the last few weeks, all of which had come about through hard-earned trial and error.

She picked up a plastic bag and began the short walk down the beach to the mango tree, staying near the tide line and thinking about Tony.

He'd started calling her 'island wife' in the first few days after their shift in relations, and Pepper had strenuously objected at the time, scowling at him as they lay sated for the moment in the shade of the palms. _"Tony, *no.* We're not married, we're not going to *get* married, and I know you mean it as a joke, but it's not funny."_

"_But it's factually true, Pepperpot," he'd told her, rolling over to prop his head up on one elbow and smirk at her. "You and I are the only people on this island, therefore we by de facto get to create the government and laws here; hell we could even start our own religion if we wanted. Now I *could* claim to be the supreme authority here on Isola de Pepe, but I'm much smarter than that. You function as a wife for me, and I function as a husband for you; that is to say, between us we are creating a household—THE household—and in lieu of any objection, we are the island family."_

"_I object."_

"_Overruled."_

"_You can't overrule me, Tony—at most we're deadlocked."_

"_See? That's why we need to be co-rulers. I have the sciences locked up, but you're the humanities half of the family. And 'wife' is *so* much easier and fun to say than 'domestic partner by unforeseen circumstances' you know."_

"_So I'm a wife by . . . default. An island wife--for the duration," she'd mulled, the faintest of smiles dawning on her because damn it, Tony had a way of sweet-talking that was hard to resist._

_Especially when his hand was sliding down her bare stomach, heading south into damp curly fur._

"_Yes. And I get to be island husband, consort official to island wife, with all duties and privileges therein. Speaking of prrrrrrivileges—" _

Smirking to herself, Pepper missed her footing along the sand, and stumbled a little. She turned to catch her balance, and her left foot came down on the slick strings that trailed off from the blue-tinted balloon shape that the waves had left stranded there.

She sucked in a breath as the sudden searing fire burned across her sole, so shockingly hot that for a second all Pepper could do was tense, her body already aware of the pain to come. Pepper staggered back; the tentacles clung to her foot, and she fell, dropping the bag, breath driven out of her by impact and fear. Numbly Pepper tried to reach down and pull the burning strands off, but the minute she touched them, the fire ignited her fingers and she jerked back with a cry.

_Whistle. Tony_—she though, and puckered, but for some reason her chest was tightening up, and her mouth was trembling too much to form a good circle. Pepper clawed the sand, tears welling up, and through it all the white-hot burn of the gluey tentacles continued to roast into the underside of her foot.

She writhed, dry-mouthed and panicky when she couldn't catch her breath. In desperation, Pepper chuffed, and drew in enough air to give one, sharp scream. It took all the energy she had, and merciful blackness was blooming now, tinged with red as the pain kept burning through her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Aroha mai, aroha atu**

Love towards us; love going out from us

Maori proverb

Chapter 11

Tony made his way to the waterfall pond, feeling a sense of optimism brought on by the possibilities in the trap. He'd built the coffin-sized box of bamboo sticks, weaving them loosely with strands of nylon from a section of the rope. He'd anchored it with more rope under the flow of the waterfall, and every few days Tony checked it to see if any fish had landed in it.

Usually there were a few; mostly sunfish just a little too big to slip through the spaced bars. Snails too, seemed to love the wet bamboo and slithered all over it; Tony didn't mind them too much and generally flicked them off. Twice though, there had been catfish, and those were fine eating. Tony had gotten good at cleaning and grilling them; with pineapple or mango, the meat was filling and good.

Almost as tasty as chicken.

He waded in, leaving only his shoes on the shore and swam out to the falls, thinking about gunpowder. The basic formula for it was easy he knew—urine and charcoal mostly—but collecting and processing it would take time. Tony noted that currently time was the one element he and Pepper had plenty of, and gunpowder would be the first step in making flares.

His glance took in the falls as he climbed up on the rocks, and Tony smiled, remembering. He and Pepper had made love here twice amid the splashes and rainbows. At the beginning, she'd done it to humor him, but by the time Tony had finished licking and nibbling between her hips, she'd been so turned on that he had trouble keeping them from toppling into the water.

"_So where the hell did this adorably voracious sexual appetite of yours come from, Potts? Honestly, you act like you haven't gotten any in---ohdamn. You haven't, have you?"_

"_Tony," she'd smirked, wringing out her wet hair and finger-combing it. "When have I ever had *time* in the last seven years for anything more than a battery-operated boyfriend? Even when you're off working, or schmoozing, or on a mission there are things to be done for Stark Industries and *I'm* generally the one directing the traffic or dealing with the paperwork. I'm not complaining—" Pepper had added quickly, "—just sort of . . . explaining."_

"_You poor deprived woman," he'd teased. "Subliminating all this pent-up sexual frustration into super-efficiency and seductive stilettos. How utterly Freudian of you, Pepperpot." _

_Tony remembered Pepper throwing a green banana at him and laughing, her giggles echoing through the trees._

Life with Pepper had always been good; now it was richer, better, more . . . meaningful. Tony had never realized how sweet a partnership could be; had never bothered putting forth the effort with so many distractions at hand back in the real world.

Here, it was just . . . them.

He sighed. "Getting rescued is the priority," Tony reminded himself aloud. "Keep it in mind, Stark."

Getting rescued WAS the priority, certainly, but there was no law against enjoying the status quo either, and Tony planned on taking full advantage of that for as long as possible.

Peeking into the trap, he noted with glee that there were *two* medium sized catfish circling around on the bottom, their blackish grey forms outlined against the bamboo bars. Now came the unpleasant part: dispatching them. Tony debated whether to lift the entire trap out and take it to the bank or not; the last time he'd done that, the fish inside had managed to slip out.

He reached in just as a faint but unmistakable scream echoed over the rumble of the falls. Alarmed, Tony stood up, staring off towards the trail on the other side of the pool, panic flaring in his chest.

_NoGodPEPPER_

He dove, swam, and grabbed his shoes, shoving them on quickly. Running up the path took only a few minutes, and when he spotted the cabin and fire pit, Tony looked around, panting, yelling, "Pepper!?"

She wasn't there, and the fear rose more urgently in him. Tony jogged down to the waterline, looking towards the mango tree when he caught sight of her limp form lying on the sand. The hard thud of his heart sped up, and Tony ran full out, covering the distance in seconds, skidding to a halt and reaching for her shoulders. "Pepper!"

She was completely pale, and Tony could hear her wheezing; he looked down and saw the angry maroon welts on her foot, the color showing through the slick, glassy strands of tentacles.

_NO. No no, no, no! _Pounded in his head.

"Fuck!" Tony glanced around and spotted the empty plastic bag; slipping it on his hand he peeled the tentacles off Pepper's foot, throwing them aside. Carefully he slid his other arm around her, making her sit up. "Pepper, talk to me, you can *hear* me, right?"

"Stop . . . yelling . . ." She ordered in a choked whisper. "My foot . . ."

Tony hesitated, his gaze bouncing between her face and her foot, his indecision agonizing. "What do I do!?"

"W-wash . . ." came her plea, and she tried to scoot down to the waves. Tony scooped her up and carried her to the small waves, dipping her down to the shin-deep water. The moment her foot touched the ocean, Pepper gave a little groan of relief. "More, please."

Tony relaxed and squatted with her, using his free hand to splash water along her leg as she weakly wiggled it. "Okay, you're going to be okay. Stepped on a jellyfish, but it's going to be fine, right?" he babbled.

"M-manowar," Pepper mumbled. "Worse."

"You're *worse?*" Tony tensed, lifting her out of the water.

Pepper clutched his shoulder and gave him a weak glare. "A worse sting. Tony . . . oh God. I'm going to throw u---" Putting the action to the words, Pepper leaned away from Tony and whimpered as a gush of sour scented fruit chunks splashed into the water.

"Okay, gross," Tony mumbled, but moved sideways with her, supporting Pepper carefully. She bent over, cramping with each wave of nausea, and the longer it went on, the more worried he got. Tony shifted a bit more, and realized with a flare of cold dread that there was something floating in the water only a few feet away from his shins.

Another jellyfish.

*** *** ***

Her head throbbed, and the pounding was so hard each one sent a wave of pain through her. Pepper tried to vomit as neatly as she could, but Tony was manhandling her, and that didn't help matters at ALL.

"Gotta get out of the water, Pepper, right NOW," he told her in that intensely quiet voice that always frightened her. She blearily looked up, saw the second blue-tinted bubble of another Man 'o War and flinched, clutching Tony. He backed out of the water diagonally, shifting Pepper until she was fully in his arms, and then stepped up onto the beach.

He wouldn't put her down and instead carried her all the way back to the cabin, setting her on the mattress inside. "Okay, let's get something on that foot. Are you going to puke again?"

Pepper shook her head, trying not to speak; the lingering sourness in her mouth was disgusting, but she felt too weak to speak. With a little moan she lay back, grateful for the dim coolness of the small room.

She felt Tony slathering something on her foot, and blessedly, it took the tingling sting away from her sole and toes. A few minutes later, Tony gently shook her shoulder as he knelt beside her. "Water, babe—a few sips, okay?

It took effort to sit up, but it felt good to clear her mouth, and dutifully Pepper drank from the water bottle. Tony looked worried as he stared at her and she noticed he was sweating.

"I'll be okay," she lied, not knowing if she would or not. Her head was still pounding, and she felt hot all over; lying down seemed like the best plan for the moment. Pepper blinked slowly and added, "I'm not dying, Tony."

"Sure," he replied in a neutral tone. "I know that. Um, what do I do now? You need ibuprofen, or morphine? A blanket?"

Tony looked so utterly lost, shifting uneasily by the side of the bed, his eyes never leaving her face. Pepper forced herself to smile, but it took real effort.

"Ibuprofen. Just one--" she warned, "need to save them."

Tony looked as if he wanted to argue, but fished out the small bottle and shook one caplet out and handed it to her. Pepper washed it down with more water, and gave the bottle back to Tony, who took it uncertainly.

"Need . . . to relax, Tony," she croaked at him. "Just a sting."

He squared his shoulders and bent down to cup her cheek in his palm. "I'll be right back."

Pepper nodded and closed her eyes, listening to him hurry out the door. She felt heavy and sluggish; more weight than anything else, and the throbbing of her head still hurt. With care, Pepper forced herself to relax, but it wasn't easy, and she felt a few tears slip out from under her closed eyelids.

_I don't want him to hurt_, she thought, wishing there was some way to reassure Tony. He was fantastic with mechanical and technical disasters, but in dealing with people . . . not so good. Tony had never been great at dealing with personal crises, which was primarily why he relied on a PA, Pepper knew.

Wearily she lay quietly, and after a while she heard Tony return, his steps slowing as he reached the doorway. Lightly Pepper lifted a hand to show him she wasn't dead yet, and smiled, eyes still closed.

"Okay," he sighed, and the relief in his voice was audible. "Good. We've got water, bananas, and some mangos. I put out the fire, and left the trap under the falls . . ."

"Tony--!" Pepper fussed, opening her eyes at this recital, "you were going to check for fish, and start building the coconut press . . ."

"Not leaving you," he muttered stubbornly. "Not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either."

Pepper fretted. Part of her wanted to be left alone to cope with her head and foot, but another part of her heart lightened with the knowledge that Tony was staying. She looked up at him, and slowly patted the mattress. "Okay."

"No arguing? You must be worse than I thought," he mumbled, and toed off his shoes. Gingerly Tony stretched out on the mattress and settled next to her, automatically taking his usual sleeping position as he curled to face her. Pepper closed her eyes and let her hand reach over to take his, their fingers interlacing.

"Island wife . . . using a sick day," she replied softly. "I'm sure it's in the contract."

"Oh yeah," Tony murmured in soft agreement. "Shhhhhhh. Sleep."

She drifted off, the pain lessening, but never completely fading.

_Red. Too much red all around, and the squeeze of it made her want to run. Pepper looked up and all around her the walls flexed in red shimmer: a dragon, a growling dog and then brent was there, white teeth and lazy smile. Hey gin, you know what I do when it's all YOUR FAULT._

_No! she shouted, hands up in defense, Don't you DARE hit me again you bastard!_

_You did it. It's *your* fault you stupid uncoordinated bitch, brent insisted. You're the one who MAKES me lose my temper._

_He came at her with the belt, and she tried to run, tried to keep him away but every move made the redwalls pound, and Pepper cried because it hurt, it hurt it HURT----_

_*** *** ***_

"Jesus!" Tony blurted, trying to hold Pepper as she thrashed, her words almost a scream. The shock of her sudden struggle was bad enough, but hearing her crying out for someone not to *hit* her again--Tony fought the fear down as he tried to keep her from rolling off the mattress.

Pepper writhed, muttering once more. Tony hung onto her, one arm around her waist, the other over her shoulder as he tried to pin her against him. Outside, the afternoon had turned overcast, and the smell of rain drifted in; the sort of day that brought the fish in close to shore and made the jungle noisy with the gusts of breeze through the palms.

"Shhhh, Pepper it's okay, it's okay," Tony tried to soothe her. Pepper's skin radiated heat in a way that clearly spelled fever; he wondered if he could get her to drink more water or not. "It's Tony, I've got you—"

His mind raced, processing incoming information at high speed, running on four different thought lines all at once: _Shit_ _what do I DO for the fever?/Who the hell is Brent?/Don't die, Pepper, please don't die!/ _and very dimly down on the very bottom of his thoughts--_Jesus I'm a pervert because this wrestling feels great._

"Let me go!" Pepper whimpered, flailing again. "Need the coat for oatmeal. Find France."

"France is right where we left it," Tony assured her, loosening his grip a little and whispering softly in her hot ear. "And the oatmeal doesn't need a coat today, Pepper sweetheart. I'll tell you what; let's drink some water. Does that sound good ? Wa-ter. Drink some water."

"Blue," she agreed, and relaxed in his grip. Tony stared down into her glassy eyes, realizing she wasn't focusing well at all. With a struggle, he helped her sit up; Pepper slumped against him, blinking slowly.

"Pepperpot, water, okay?" he muttered, bringing the rim of the bottle to her lips. She hesitated, then gingerly took a sip, swallowing slowly. Tony tried to pour a little more into her and Pepper coughed, spilling it down the front of her shirt.

"I have to go," she whimpered. Tony set the bottle down and used her damp shirt to wipe her face, feeling the heat radiate through it. _Too warm; she needs more medicine—_

"No, you need to stay *with* me Pepper. Not going anywhere—"

"I have to go," she repeated, and tried to pull away from Tony, looking towards the door. "Please Tony."

He blinked, and it dawned on him what she meant, along with the realization that there was no *way* he could let her wander off into the jungle by herself. Blushing, Tony slipped off the bed and took Pepper's hand. "Ooookay. Um, hold on. I'll get the pot, and you can go right here, Pepper."

He looked up; she was pale now, and a tear was slipping down her cheek, leaving a glittering trail. Tony leaned up and kissed it, tasting the salt, the heat. "I'm here."

Pepper blinked, more tears falling, and his heart, never very solid around her anyway, melted a bit more. Tony took her face in his hands, speaking low, his voice striving for steadiness. "It's o-kay, Pepperpot. You're sick and you're going to get better. I'll get you some leaves and give you some privacy, and when you're done we'll get you cooled off."

Just saying it made him feel better, and Tony managed a smile. "You hear me?"

Pepper nodded, but her pupils were still glassy, and her cheeks flushed. Tony gently let her go, and stepped out of the cabin, trying to remember where they'd stashed the chamber pot. He found it around the other side, holding firewood and hefted it, glad that Pepper had let it be scrubbed out by the tide weeks ago. Tony brought it back to the open door of the cabin after snagging some young Papaya leaves.

Those were best, Tony knew from painful trial and error.

He set the pot down by the edge of the bed and left the leaves on the mattress, mumbling softly to Pepper. "Okay, I'm going to . . . check the fire, and I'm keeping my back turned. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes," Pepper murmured back, her voice a little stronger. "Go get water, Tony. That will . . . give me time. And privacy."

He paused, ready to protest, but the errand was necessary, and the ten minute walk each way would allow Pepper *some* dignity.

Tony nodded with reluctance. "Yeah. But if you need me, you yell. Or whistle."

She managed a ghost of a smile and nodded, then groaned a little. Taking his cue, Tony awkwardly left, scooping up a few of the empty plastic bottles from the bag on the palm tree.

_Some asshole named Brent is going to need a new set of teeth and kneecaps when we get rescued,_ Tony thought, and the prospect cheered him a bit as he made his way quickly over the trail. Filling the bottles took only a few minutes, and he regretfully glanced at the fish trap on the far side of the pool, still under the waterfall.

_Ah well, easy fall, easy catch_, he thought, and began to trot back, wondering how many ibuprofen they had left. At least one bottle full from the back-up first aid kit, and half in the one they were using now.

There was a LOT Tony missed about civilization: espresso; Rhodey, Jarvis and Happy; missions; the workshop; hot water; refrigeration; sake; pizza, and music being the top ten, but at the moment he would have given them all up, easily, for a qualified doctor .

He was still debating whether or not he should have urinated on Pepper's foot when he reached the clearing and cleared his throat. "I'm back . . . everything . . . okay?"

" . . . yes . . ." came the low and embarrassed reply. "That was . . . quick."

"Sorry," Tony admitted. "I was worried."

Pepper gripped the edge of the doorway for support, her hair stringy and her face pale; despite all that she managed to wrinkle her nose and look shy. "Maybe you could take . . . a walk down the beach . . ."

"Okay," Tony agreed, adding, "Call me when you're done and I'll go empty the pot."

"Tony—!"

"It's gotta be done, and you can barely walk, Pepperpot," he pointed out kindly. "Besides, you've been cleaning up after *me* for years—time to pay back the favor. I'll . . . just go get mangos."

He jogged off before she could argue, making good time down the beach, reaching the drying remains of the Portuguese Man 'O War within minutes. Tony eyed it, and unexpectedly a welling of fury rose high and hard in him.

_This dead thing. _

_This stupid mindless *thing* hurt Pepper._

Before he could stop himself, Tony picked up a large rock and threw it down savagely. The half-deflated bubble popped, and Tony took a few hard breaths, ashamed and defiant, feeling a sense of satisfaction in his petty revenge.


	12. Chapter 12

_E hi noa ana, na te aroha:_

Although it (the gift) be small, it is a gift of love.

Maori proverb

Chapter 12

It took nearly three days for Pepper to feel almost up to her old self. Walking was the hardest; any weight on the welts was painful, even when wrapped in gauze. Tony fought down Pepper's objections and carried her to the pond, reminding her that very few people had ever been given a piggyback ride by a billionaire, and that as an island wife, she needed to lord it over him while she could.

The water made her foot feel better, and after a good scrub with white sand and a smattering of avocado and coconut oil, Pepper felt much cleaner and happier. She gracefully hoisted herself onto the ledge, and still modest in her nudity, draped her shirt over her lap as she lathered up the mixed oils in half a coconut shell and rubbed them into her legs.

"I wish I had a razor," Pepper sighed. "I feel like a pinecone."

Tony waded over and pressed his nose against the side of one calf, his dimples deep. "Pepper . . . it's not even *hair;* it's down, and it's all blonde and sun-bleached. This is the lightest fuzz possible and frankly, it's cute. Believe me, you haven't got the genetics to go Sasquatch."

Pepper erupted into giggles, pulling back from Tony and looking for something to throw at him. "How is it that your compliments still sound like insults?"

"It's an art, island wife," Tony admitted. "And forget the peach fuzz. You want serious grizzly, I've got more beard coming in than I know what to do with. Wish I'd found Hans's straight razor, because I definitely could use it."

"Hmm," Pepper murmured in consolation. "You do have that Mad Bomber look to you, and you need a haircut as well."

Tony hauled himself up on the ledge, splashing her a bit; Pepper gave a squeak and moved over as he deliberately shook his head like a dog, droplets flying everywhere.

"Tony!"

"You were already wet," he defended himself with a grin, moving to sit behind her.

Pepper looked over one shoulder at him, her expression of annoyance changing has he lightly raked his fingers through her hair. "Oh, I see you've gone for the sun-bleached look, daaaarling," Tony drawled, his imitation of a hairdresser, complete with arched eyebrow and little pursing of the lips. "Well here at Chez Waterfall, we've got only the best and most *natural* ingredients for your coiffure, sweetheart."

"Mmmmmm," Pepper agreed, passing the bowl. "Not too much Sergio—don't want to go to dreadlocks just yet."

"Oh honey no—that Bo Derek cornrow disaster is SO last century! Sooooo, dish with me while I get these Sheena of the jungle tresses to be-HAVE. Who are you seeing these days?"

"Um, someone special," Pepper admitted softly. She had yet to actually say the L word to Tony; at least when he was awake to hear it.

"Yes, I knew it, I could tell," Tony prattled, fingers raking lightly through her hair and pulling the tangles clear. He had a gentle touch, and Pepper closed her eyes, savoring the grooming as Tony moved from section to section on her head. "Sugar, as soon as I saw your complexion I told myself, Sergio, there is a woman who's *much* more relaxed. Must be all the faboo sex, am I right?"

Pepper laughed. "He's extremely talented in that department, yes. I'm not sure I can keep up."

"That much of a tiger in the sheets? Lucky bitch," Tony purred.

"Oh I'm sure *your* Mr. Right will come along," came Pepper's reassuring murmur. "All you have to do is survive a plane crash and land on a tropical island with him. The rest just sort of comes naturally."

"Mmmm," Tony replied softly, his concentration on the braiding. Pepper's hair was sun bleached and longer now, and the streaks through it were pretty in the dappled light all around them. He used a section of thread and tied off the end of the braid, then reached for a plumeria blossom and tucked it over Pepper's ear, smiling. "Sorry I can't offer you a mirror, but *trust* me darling you are in-CEN-di-ary!"

Pepper leaned back and stretched up to kiss Tony, who laughed against her mouth, his arms coming around her to complete the gentle embrace. With a contented sigh she broke the kiss. "Thank you, Tony. For everything. This time here with you has been . . . I can't thank you enough for saving me, and . . ." she trailed off.

"For loving you. You can say it Potts, it's all right," Tony teased, rubbing his nose with hers. "I do, you know. Probably have for years and just needed a nice, big, heavy-duty crisis to straighten out my priorities."

"I probably have for years and just knew better than to say anything," Pepper admitted.

"Yeah, well cluelessness is a folie aux deux at times," Tony admitted gently. "But I do have one question, and you don't have to answer it----"

"Yes?" Pepper replied gently, nuzzling him.

"Who was Brent?"

Pepper tensed; Tony noted her jaw tightening, and her eyes flick away quickly. "Just . . . a guy I knew."

"Ah," Tony replied. He wanted to push, but Pepper was pulling away and sitting up now, arms crossing over her bare chest.

God, he really loved her half-nudity; really.

She took a deep, controlling breath. "Did I, um, say anything about him? When I was . . . sick?"

This was tricky, and Tony sensed that the wrong word now would damage the peace, but he didn't want to lie, either, so he lowered his head and studied his hands. "Yeah, you did."

For a moment Pepper didn't speak.

"Shit," she sighed, and it was so unlike her that Tony shot her a disbelieving glance. Pepper lifted her chin, and tried to smile back at him, but it wasn't at all reassuring. "Tony . . . I really don't want to talk about it, if you don't mind."

"Okay," he agreed. He *did* mind, but knew that pushing Pepper was the wrong way to get anything out of her. Tony scooted back and scratched his beard forcing himself to think of the day's chores and not dwell on the pang of hurt deep inside. Pepper slowly pulled the shirt on and got to her feet, still not speaking.

"It's not anything recent," she finally sighed. "And he's long gone, so it's not important."

"Mmmm," Tony agreed gently, trying to sound relaxed, even though he was tense and curious. There was still so much about Pepper he didn't know; that he was curious about and didn't know how to ask.

_Damn it, all my relationships have been about *me,*_ he glumly admitted to himself. _No wonder I suck at this._

Pepper turned and held out a hand to help him up, her smile tremulous. "Thank you. Can we head back now . . . please?"

Tony nodded, rising with her pull. "Sure."

He carried her back in his arms, and halfway through the trip, in the quiet passing through the most shaded part of the path, Pepper began to cry, softly, pressing her face against his shoulder. Tony slowed to a stop and said nothing, cradling her as her sobs grew in intensity, and for a long time Tony held her, letting Pepper cling to him through it all.

When her tears slowed, and her breath had become a series of hiccup-filled sighs, Pepper lifted her face to brush her cheek against Tony's, her voice an urgent whisper. "He was my brother's best friend, and the first boyfriend I ever had. I thought he was wonderful, but on our second date, he . . . he shoved me because I criticized his parallel parking. He apologized, and I let it go, because . . . I didn't know any better. And . . . it got worse. Anytime I was too slow, or too smart, or too busy or too anything . . . I . . . paid for it."

Tony sucked in a breath, his dark eyes glittering, but Pepper laid a hand over his mouth, her expression harder, wearier. "Don't. It's over, Tony. My brother found out about Brent hitting me and went after him. The car chase . . . Brent went to the hospital, but my brother died."

Tony's arms around her tightened, and Pepper burrowed in closer, clinging to him.

*** *** ***

The idea came to him gradually; shortly after Pepper's recovery, and Tony toyed with the thought a while, feeling slightly scared and excited about it. Neither he nor Pepper was the sort to go for traditional roles, usually, but time on Isola del Pepe was starting to take on a more permanent cast.

They'd already been here nearly three months, Tony realized, and his birthday was coming up. With this in mind, he told Pepper he wanted a celebration. She looked up from the mending in her lap and cocked her head, vastly amused for the moment. "A party?"

"For two. I want good food, and presents, and to get stinking drunk."

"Ah. The usual birthday," Pepper teased. "Well, we still have four bottles of wine, and I'm sure that still you're working on will function. Eventually."

Tony rolled his eyes; he hadn't realized Pepper knew about the still, or his frustration at not finding consistent source of sugar to make it work. In an attempt at nonchalance, he hung his head over the frame of the gazebo he was building and made a face at her. "Man does not live by fruit and shellfish alone, island wife. If we're here for more than a year, I'm going to *want* something with a kick to it."

"If you can make it work, you will have *earned* it, island husband," she replied serenely. "So. You'll want chicken? And roasted breadfruit?"

"And sex. Preferably the sort where you tie me down and tease me for hours before finally letting me have a mind-blowing orgasm," Tony sighed in delicious anticipation. "I think we need to practice that, in fact."

Pepper laughed, and bit the thread, looking at the repaired hem with satisfaction. "Sounds like you've thought this all out, Tony. Tell you what; you're in charge of catching the chicken, and I'll see what I can do about the rest of it. Right now, I'm going to take a nap before tackling the laundry and starting on the palm frond thatch."

"Cool. Sure. I'll work on the canoe for a while then," he replied nonchalantly, giving her a wave.

When she was safely in the cabin and sleeping, Tony moved. He brought out his hidden supplies, and then stoked up the fire, building the heat by fanning hard and feeding it more fuel. With care, he picked up the ceramic bowl and set it over the flames, then reached in his pocket for the ancient glasses. After carefully plucking the broken bits of glass out, Tony set the empty gold frames into the bowl.

He watched the metal melt, slowly liquefying, and as it did, Tony worked the ancient candle stumps from the den in his hands, letting them soften until he had a flat, thick disc in his hands.

"Now comes the tricky part . . ." he murmured, and took a broken bit of shell. The first carved circle was slightly lopsided, but he smoothed it out, and with satisfaction, he started the second, making it smaller than the first. He studied them both critically, and gave a sigh; his own wasn't a problem, but estimation for the other one . . .

Using his shirt as a potholder, Tony lifted the ceramic bowl up, muffling his pained whimpers as he carefully poured the molten gold onto the wax. The gleaming liquid seeped into the circles, filling them. He carried the bowl down to the waves and filled it; the hiss and rise of steam when it went into the water seemed loud, but he hurried back up and poured seawater over the wax disc, cooling it.

Two more bowls of water, and Tony was satisfied. He put the disc into the third bowl of water and while it cooled, Tony hacked open a green coconut and helped himself to the jelly meat inside, humming.

The whole process had taken nearly forty minutes, and he knew Pepper would be rising soon, so Tony picked up the disc and carried it down towards the log he'd been hollowing out. Once there, he lightly broke the wax mold, and picked the two rings out, examining them carefully.

Plain. Crude, even, but some polishing would help, Tony knew, and he was grateful that Hans's glasses had been nearly 24 carat to begin with.

He tried his on, and the fit was a snug, but good. As for the other, Tony could only hope.

Feeling a sense of satisfaction in not only creating the rings, but also in doing it without Pepper's knowledge, Tony carefully tucked the bands into a hole in the half-finished dugout canoe and headed back into the jungle to cut thatch fronds.

*** *** ***

A chicken was dispatched. Pepper had to admit that among the many skills she would never understand Tony possessing, chicken hunting was top among them. It wasn't anything she'd ever thought he could do, but for the moment she simply accepted that for some bizarre reason the man was capable of snagging hens with a reasonable record of success, and was grateful for it.

Apparently Hans and Anna's birds had managed to survive in the wild easily, and had a stretch of territory in the interior that they'd claimed for their own. From what Tony had seen, there were few natural predators—mostly coconut crabs and other birds—so the population seemed to be fairly stable. Tony had yet to find a current nest; the birds had learned to hide them exceedingly well, but he promised Pepper he would keep trying.

Pepper took her time preparing dinner, and hummed as she did so, feeling a sense of contentment as the dinner took shape. She'd always liked cooking but rarely got to do much of it in the last few years; here, it was a daily chore, but one well-appreciated. Tony was fun to cook for; he was always hungry and seemed willing to eat nearly anything she managed to whip up.

Her foot was much better; between the last of the hydrocortisone lotion and practical care Pepper was walking without a limp, although she suspected there would always be a scarring along the instep and heel. She knew it would have been worse, but thanks to Tony and his quick help—

_Tony_, she thought, and let the wave of grateful pleasure rise through her again. He loved her. He loved her and she loved him, and it still seemed incredible that the two of them could say it aloud to each other. In all her years with the man, she'd never heard him admit to loving anything or anyone, and even now the thought made her slightly giddy.

"Here," his voice broke into her thoughts, and Pepper looked up from the breadfruit she was shifting in the ashes to see Tony holding out the wine, freshly chilled from the waterfall pond. He was dressed in the best of his Hawaiian shirts, and shorts, his hair as neatly combed as was possible without a comb.

"Very nice," she told him approvingly. "And you're right on time, birthday boy. We'll be ready to eat in about ten minutes here. Do you want to open it while I set the table?"

The table had been one of Tony's first projects; a rough but serviceable creation from the tool shed door and four lengths of bamboo carefully peg jointed into place. He'd managed a pair of stools as well, using rounded slices of coconut trunk for the seats, and while they weren't artistically beautiful, they worked, especially with a lifejacket for cushioning.

In fact, with the thatched gazebo overhead, they had the beginnings of a snug camp on the beach, and Pepper was grateful that Tony was putting his hyperactive energy into fairly constructive projects—mostly.

She figured he'd earned the right to make a still if he was willing to put a roof over their heads.

"Sure," Tony replied, pulling her from her reverie once again. "Although I'm telling you right now that bits of cork in it are to be expected."

"Adds to the ambience," Pepper told him sweetly. "I'll just go . . . freshen up if you'll keep an eye on this."

He nodded, peeling the foil off the bottle and pocketing it. Pepper slipped into the cabin and grabbed a few things, then headed for the waterfall, feeling amused at herself. She scrubbed up, and slipped on the shortie nightgown and pink panties, aware that with her tan, she looked . . . good.

A fresh hibiscus behind one ear; a few crushed plumeria rubbed along her wrists and collarbone for scent . . . Pepper wished she still had mascara, but with a sigh of acceptance, she went back over the trail to the camp.

The look in Tony's eyes as she stepped out was worth it, and the heat that flushed through her body pooled between her hips at his dark-eyed worship. "Ohhhh," he murmured, the word a slow, sweet sigh.

"This old thing," Pepper flirted softly, stepping out into the sand. "Just something I had in my suitcase."

"Mmmmm," Tony nodded, playing along as he poured wine into two of the rescued Von Dressel china cups. "Very nice. I definitely like the cut of that."

She laughed, and accepted the cup he handed her, sipping the wine and coming to stand close to him. The sun had just gone down on the other side of the island, but Tony had brought out one of the Mylar mirrors, and angled it to backlight the fire, creating a cheery glow, and the scent of dinner rose in the air. Pepper approved of the frond brushed sand and the tidiness of the camp. She toasted Tony, lifting her cup up to him. "To your birthday, Mr. Stark."

"Thank you, Miss Potts," he responded, taking a sip of the wine and smiling over the rim of the cup. "I can't think of anyone more wonderful to share it with."

Pepper blinked, touched by the warm, quiet sincerity of his words. "Tony—that was very . . . sweet of you."

He shrugged, a tender gleam in his eyes as he moved closer to Pepper, voice pitched low and soft. "I wish I could claim I've always known how wonderful you are, but I've been a pretty self-preoccupied bastard for a number of the years we've known each other, Pepper. This isn't about the sex—let me get say that now. Hear me out," he held up a hand at Pepper's wry expression and she patiently waited for him to go on.

Tony cleared his throat. "Money is good, and intelligence helps in the grand scheme of things, but neither one of them matter a damn without some sense of . . . connection to the real and human side of ourselves. I was missing that for a long, long time, and the day I hired you, it wasn't because of your efficiency or killer legs or because it amused me. I hired you because I liked how I felt when I looked in those big blue eyes of yours, Pepper.

"Making you a part of my day-to-day life was actually a selfish move, but it was the first step in coming back from how far off I'd gone from being . . . human. And then Afghanistan, and . . . it's amazing how your entire value system can be wrenched inside out in a matter of months."

"Tony," Pepper murmured, close to tears. He cocked his head, the move so familiar, even under the thick beard and shaggy locks.

"I'm *still* a stubborn, egomaniacal, infantile genius bastard with an over-inflated sense of self-worth, but because of you, there's hope for me. Maybe just a little, Pepper. I'm not quite the lost cause I once was."

"You were never a lost cause!" Pepper seized on his last sentence, her loving ferocity beautiful in the twilight. "You listen to ME, Anthony Edward Stark! You're one of the greatest men of this decade, probably of the century, and even if we'd never . . . I still would cherish the honor of having worked for you, and being there when you needed someone!"

He was fighting a grin now; Pepper could see it, but it didn't matter, and she rolled on, hands sliding to grip his shoulders, to shake him and make his *see.* "You're GOOD, Tony, and you always have been! You just . . . didn't have any way of showing it, I suppose."

"Or any reason to try," he agreed gently, bending to brush his lips along the tender skin under her ear. "It's easy to be bad, and hard to be good."

"No," Pepper protested, blinking a little because the sweet sensation of his mouth was distracting her from her little tirade. "I mean yes. For you." She arched up to give him more to nuzzle and he did, humming against the scent of plumeria there.

"Yes it is; trust me, I know this," Tony corrected her gently. "But you still love me anyway, right?"

That made her puff up indignantly, and Pepper tugged him by the ears, pulling him to her into a good, deep kiss that left no doubt at all how she felt.

Tony slid his arms around her waist, savoring the easy way they melded together, the lovely fit of her to him. Pulling away, he gave a low deep growl, whispering, "Think we can postpone dinner and have the dessert first? Because I really, really REALLY want dessert. Now."

"Me too," Pepper agreed a little breathlessly. "And it's *your* birthday . . ."

"Yes it is," Tony realized with a sweetly wicked grin. "Isn't it? So I get everything *my* way tonight."

"Yes, Mr. Sinatra."


	13. Chapter 13

_Ka ki te piro o nga manu o nga tangata ka kata:_

A full stomach causes a bird to sing, a man to laugh.

Chapter 13

She shivered, but not from cold. The flush of anticipation down her skin had Pepper on edge; off-balance and breathing erratically. For a moment Pepper closed her eyes, wondering if she'd finally lost her grip on rationality. _This is so . . ._

But she couldn't finish the thought, because all the adjectives that came to mind--_kinky, weird, scary_—didn't quite fit the situation completely. Pepper settled for _unsettling_ and tried to relax.

Twilight had flowed into night, and they were close enough to the dying fire to see each other in the glow. The breeze had died down; the jungle seemed still.

Tony leaned over her, looking nervous but excited too; Pepper could see him striving to be calm and gentle, and the fact that he was trying, helped. She flexed her fingers and licked her lips, looking up at him through a small, crooked smile.

"And so you have me at your advantage, sir," she murmured, wondering if he would remember the quote from _Moonlight's Sweet Savage Surrender _or not.

Tony's grin flashed out; he did. "And that being the case, I should indulge myself fully then," he replied, and smoothed the section of tablecloth under her hips, fingers moving from the cloth to her body in a languorous caress. The fact that Pepper couldn't do much more than shiver had him breathing a little harder.

So beautiful.

Pepper, lay stretched out under him, her hair spread out, her body barely covered by the thin nightie, and sweetest, sexiest of all, her slender wrists tied securely with a strip of tablecloth. Her bound wrists were hooked on a stake of bamboo buried hard and firm in the sand, and in the firelight, Tony could barely stand how erotically enticing Pepper looked this way.

To calm himself, Tony rose to his knees between hers, and let his fingers trail up her thighs. "Lady Ginellia never looked *this* luscious, no matter *what* Gwendy Saint L might think. God, Pepper, I can't believe you'd really . . . let me . . ."

"Have your evil, roguish way with me?" Pepper finished, her smile accented by a dimple. "Yes, well it *is* your birthday. Ooohhhh . . ." she trailed off as Tony let his fingers flip the hem of her nightie up, exposing the pink panties. He cocked his head and studied them.

"I like them better when you wear them," he announced, and then bent a little, tugging them down. When they were at mid-thigh, Tony added, "that is, when you're *almost* wearing them. Mmmmmyeah, that looks sexy as fucking *hell,* Pepperpot. Very . . . enticing."

His voice was thicker, and Pepper wriggled a little under the intensity of his stare. There was something about being helpless under Tony's lustful gaze that was affecting her and Pepper moaned.

The sound made Tony smile, and he arched over her, running hands up under her nightie, hands gentle but bold. "So the good girl *does* have a bad side. I always thought so, myself."

"Tony," Pepper protested, "you're being a tease!"

"Yes," came his soft agreement. "And I always wanted to. To be able to take all night to drive the love of my life crazy . . . sure it's egotistical, but you're beautiful, Pepper, and I want you SO much . . ." Tony stretched out over her, barely letting his skin touch hers as he spoke in a nuzzle along her collarbone, lips and tongue tasting her skin.

She gave a helpless squeal, hips rising a bit up against his, and Tony laughed contentedly, his own pushing back. "Impatient are we, wife?"

"Yes," came her reluctant admission, breath warm against his hair. "Oh please---"

"Soon," Tony purred back, and began to touch her. His fingers skimmed and skated over her body, moving lightly over the curves, hollows and lines until Pepper thought she would go insane from the sensations flowing through her nerves. From tickle to tingle, the anticipation of where his touch would move next had her clenching.

Trembling.

It hadn't occurred to her how frustrating it was to be tied up and unable to move; how the more she reacted, the more Tony teased her, and when he bent to lick the sensitive underside of her breasts, she gave a squeaky growl, tugging hard on her bonds. "Tony!"

"Shhhhhh," he replied absently, and moved to press his mouth around the stiff gumdrop of nipple, making her arch up as a rush of liquid pleasure spiked straight down her stomach to between her legs. He pulled back a moment to study her expression gloatingly. "Oh, you *liked* that."

Instead of replying, Pepper groaned; he'd already moved to the other breast, teeth ever so lightly tugging on the hard nipple there as his beard brushed against the gooseflesh. She tried to wrap her legs around Tony, but the panties around her thighs prevented it, and in frustration, she wriggled.

"Yes," Tony murmured happily, "Damn it, you're so beautiful Pepperpot."

"And you're so . . ." she searched for the right word, but between the frustration and arousal it was hard to think clearly, ". . . *evil!*"

This insult failed to annoy him; in fact, Tony made a soft sound of agreement, and kept kissing her breasts, his own breathing ragged against her skin. He lay alongside her, leaning over her supine form, and the possessive press of his hand along her stomach as it slid to cup her hipbone was warm.

"Mine," he whispered. "Thank you." Still following the lead of his touch, Tony shifted to lean over to let his tongue glide down her ribcage, nosing his way down her lean stomach, and then through the fluff of her curls. Pepper clamped her knees together half in sensitivity, half in pique, but Tony didn't seem to mind. He nuzzled along one thigh, licking in long swipes as if it was a popsicle.

The slow licks moved inward, and Pepper found herself opening her thighs slightly, and tugging again on her bonds as she tried to anticipate Tony's next move. Already she could feel the pangs of arousal throbbing through her, getting stronger with each brush of his hot, wet tongue, and the inability to even *touch* Tony was driving her to a reckless edge.

But she could smell him, and feel the heat of his body along hers. Even the faint tremble of his fingertips told her that Tony was having as much trouble with control as she was. Pepper tried to widen her thighs when he began to kiss her curls, but the panties kept her from being able to do so, and she whimpered.

"Shhhh," Tony soothed, and nuzzled, probing more deeply. The thrust of his tongue between her pinned legs only reinforced her helplessness, and Pepper moaned, squirming, trying to increase the contact. She sensed the surge of slickness; her own, and as Tony's whiskers scraped against her inner thighs, Pepper felt like a piece of ripe fruit, juicy and warm, being devoured.

She moaned again, aware of inching ever closer to the edge, and when Tony lipped his way around the damp edges of her cleft, Pepper shivered. "I can't take this!" she hissed in a wavering voice. "Please!"

He made no reply, and lightly slid his tongue in a fluttering light stroke over the top of her stiff little button of a clitoris; Pepper's hips arched up hard and helplessly.

Tony slid his big, warm hands under her ass, cupping it, and licked again, dragging his tongue this time, riding out Pepper's shudders as she gave a sweet yowl, her body tense under him. Three more times, until the sound of her pleasure held earnest pleading in it.

Gently Tony lowered her hips down and pressed kisses along her damp thighs; worshipful caresses that lingered as he shifted himself around Pepper's body. She made a low, wordless hum of satisfaction; an ego-stroking sound that momentarily cut into his urgency. Tony laughed, and reached to tug the panties off of her long, long legs, kissing the damp lace lightly before setting them aside.

She looked up at him, eyes bright, and he moved to kneel between her gleaming thighs, his breathing loud.

"My turn," Tony rasped.

Pepper let her head drop back between her bound arms. She brought her legs up, sliding them in a caress up the sides of his hips and going higher, wrapping them around Tony's torso as he leaned forward and rocked into her with a deep, pleasured groan. Deliberately he slowed, moving at an unhurried pace, and the sweet sound of each thrust brought a gasp from Pepper.

Tony planted his hands along both sides of her ribcage and arched over her, the angle of his body on hers sweet and hard. Every push made her shudder, and within her, Pepper felt the heat of his arrogant cock, driving deep and throbbing with every stroke. She wanted to badly to grab those strong shoulders; that muscled back of his and pull Tony deeper; the fact she couldn't added a sharp bite of frustration to her hazy desire.

"Love you so . . ." Tony panted, voice hoarse. "Pepper, God . . ."

Her legs locked around his ribs, gripping him. His muscles shifted along the inside of her thighs, and Pepper felt her body rock with his, moving in quick rhythm now, building hard and fast, going higher. Tony could do this to her; make her cry with joy and scream with pleasure—things Pepper had never known could happen this way.

Not sex; something more basic and necessary now. Union, with sweat and heat and bliss.

"Mine," she cried out to him. "You're *mine,* Tony---!"

With a growl, helpless and happy, he came, buried in her, pinning her down under him, shuddering as Pepper's long frame enfolded around him.

*** *** ***

They dozed a while after that; the fire burned itself down to embers, and the night cooled around them. Tony roused himself first nearly two hours later, stretching and yawning a bit. He noted Pepper was still asleep; still bound. Carefully Tony untied the strips, and Pepper slowly woke up, smiling sleepily at him.

"That was . . . really good," she informed him, even as her smile deepened, and her cheeks went slightly pink.

"Really good?" Tony questioned, bending closer. "Really *good?* What does it take to impress you, Island wife? Because from where *I* was, 'really good' is the understatement of the *century.* Jesus, I think even the roots of my *hair* orgasmed."

Pepper laughed, and the sound; loose, sweet and utterly relaxed, made him grin even as he pulled her into his sticky lap.

"I was hoping if I kept my response low-key, we could do it again," Pepper confessed, still giggling. "After all, *you're* the one with the reputations for kink and marathon sex, Mr. Stark."

"Both true," he sighed, nuzzling her temple. "But I think I've got competition now." Tony took a deep breath and tipped Pepper's face so they were looking at each other in the dim light. "It . . . *was* okay, though, right? Not too . . . scary?"

"Tony—" Pepper looked down, and then up again, meeting his worried gaze. "It was amazing. I don't think I could do it that way all the time, but I really liked it; a lot more than I thought I would. I'm serious when I say I would like to . . . do it *again,* sometime."

"Yeah?" Tony probed, eyes wide.

Pepper nodded. "Yeah. Yes, that is."

"I like that word," he told her, and kissed her sweetly before carrying her to the cabin.

*** *** ***

They woke late, and made their way to the waterfall, talking of little things, washing up lightly. Pepper thought Tony seemed preoccupied, and hoped he wasn't going to bring up collecting urine again. Much as she wanted off the island, making gunpowder seemed a disgusting project.

"All dressed?" he murmured as she did up her sandals. Pepper looked down and nodded.

"Yes." Faded boxers and one of the older Hawaiian shirts, the sleeves cut off. She'd used the sleeves for hair ties, and one now had her hair back at the nape of her neck.

"I think you're missing something, wife," Tony commented, his voice uneven. He smiled tentatively, took her hand, and before she'd figured it out, pushed a ring on her finger.

Pepper blinked, and stared. The ring was gold, and a little lopsided, but just about a perfect fit as it glittered in the filtered sunshine. And the look of it against her tan. On her ring finger.

A ring.

When she looked at Tony, he dropped heavily to his knees, hands gripping her hips. He tried to smile up at her, but the worry and love and longing in his expression; the shaggy wet hair and beard framing his face made her stare. "God, please, Pepper. *Please?*"

"Yes." It was out in the first exhale of breath; no thought needed, no doubt, no hesitation. She said it again on the inhale. "Yes."

And then he was up, lifting her, laughing in that deep, delighted way of his, and the gleam of his teeth and the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes made Pepper laugh too.

Tony lowered her, and she slid into his arms, kissing him hard, wrapping him in her arms and welcoming the press of the arc between her breasts.

Then she cried of course, brushing the tears away impatiently while demanding to know where the ring had come from.

"Made it," Tony bragged gently, and explained. He pulled out another and held it out to her; a bigger one, crude and wide. "Not the prettiest things around, but I was going for function and symbolism over aesthetics here."

Pepper took the second one and rolled it in her fingers, admiring it. "They're beautiful, Tony. And I'm glad they're not . . . Hans and Anna's, you know?"

He nodded, and held his hand out to her, waiting. Watching.

Pepper bit her lip, then tenderly slid the ring onto his finger, twisting it lightly to move it up over his knuckle. Tony looked down at it, and let his fingers splay, to weave with hers in a gentle squeeze.

"So, by the power of *us,* we're in it now, Mrs. Pepperpot Stark. You know what this means?"

"Tony—we have SO much to do!" She spluttered, grinning at his lascivious expression. "Coconuts, the fishtrap to empty, and there's the canoe, and you wanted to cut bamboo for a chicken coop—!"

"Hon-ey-moon," Tony murmured dreamily, moving towards her. Pepper backed up, giggling, and the chase was on.

*** *** ***

Two days later, Pepper found the transmitter.

She was helping Tony cut up the carcass of the shark; a three foot one that he had speared off the jetty. Sharks were fairly tasty eating, and the small ones were usually easy to lure in with chum bait. Tony had gotten really good with the bamboo harpoon these days, hardly ever losing them anymore.

He'd hauled the squirming shark up on the sand and they'd cut the head off with one of the shovels; Pepper believed in dispatching anything as quickly as they could. Once the small shark had been decapitated, she'd sliced the belly and the stomach contents spilled into the sand in a gory, muddy-looking mess that smelled exceedingly vile.

"Sea gull, fish, our bait," Tony pointed out, using the tip of the spear to touch various gross bits. "Nasty." He'd picked up the head to bury up in the sand to dry it out; shark's teeth were useful as nails.

"I know," Pepper replied shortly from under her coolie hat, dumping water on the eviscera to wash it away. "Ew. Don't step in it."

Tony moved back. Pepper blinked, and reached down towards something in the middle of the muck, fishing it out carefully and holding it up. "What's that?"

He came closer, took it from her grip and studied it, ignoring the sour stench of bile. Tony squinted for a moment, then flashed Pepper a quick, uncertain smile, his dark eyes meeting hers.

"It's a transmitter."

She froze, shark carcass forgotten. "Oh God. Tony . . ."

He started speaking then, words that quick stream of consciousness she remembered from his days in the workshop back home--Tony in full analytic mode. "A small one, sealed and self-contained, no real distance, but if it's a matter of a battery then I'm pretty sure I can jury-rig something. All the signal has to do is reach whatever GPS satellites are receiving it. Going to be tricky to work out the frequency, but once we get this washed off and figure out if it's from the bird or from a fish . . ."

"Will it work?" Pepper asked, fear and hope at war in her trembling tone. Tony looked from the little gadget in his hand towards her, his glance sharp; eager.

"Hey, remember who you're talking to? I'll *make* it work."

Pepper glanced at the shark carcass and then back to Tony before giving a sigh. "Go; do it. I'll take care of this—don't want it to go to waste."

Tony gave her another smile, kissing her quickly as he carried the transmitter to the edge of the water, rinsed it off, and trotted for the camp, breaking into a run.

Pepper watched him go for a moment, then turned back to the shark. She reached for Anna's carving knife, squatted, and efficiently filleted the shark, cutting the two sides evenly, and laying them out on banana leaves. Her thoughts were running a double speed even as she gathered up the shark remains and began to bury them in the sand, moving on autopilot.

Rescue. They could be rescued. So far they hadn't seen a single plane in the entire time they'd been on the island, and although Tony tried to be upbeat, he'd been serious about the gunpowder idea.

But if Tony could get an electronic signal out, then someone might find them and *that* would mean getting back to civilization. Back to television, and cars and the internet and hot water and chocolate and cell phones and restaurants . . .

Pepper covered the fillets and walked down to the edge of the water, carefully rinsing her hands and the knife. Bright sunlight made glints off the blade.

Twinkles off her ring.

Pepper carried the knife back, rolled up the fillets in the banana leaves and slowly made her way back to camp. Instinctively she walked on the firmest part of the sand, between the tide lines, keeping an eye out for hazards.

At camp, Pepper took out the Tupperware tub and put the fillets in it, then carried it to the waterfall and let it float in the fish trap, cold and safe from coconut crabs. She took a swim herself, to cool off, and looked over at the Von Dressel house.

At one point she and Tony had considered moving into it, and they'd gone back and forth on the idea without a real resolution, both of them finding arguments pro and con about the deal.

And now, they might not have to make a decision at all.


	14. Chapter 14

*** *** ***

Chapter 14

He kotuku rerenga tahi

_A White heron flies once_

It took Tony two days to open the transmitter, work out the frequency, hook it up to the arc and tap out a signal. He sat in the shade of the thatched gazebo, patiently re-sending the message every hour, and Pepper worried about the arc being pulled out of and reset into his chest so constantly.

"It's only for a minute every hour," Tony growled good-naturedly. "Roughly. Jarvis will pick up the signal sooner or later, and then we'll be back in the land of espresso and Email. Think of it, wife—clean clothes, hot showers, cheeseburgers!"

He said this last with a long sigh of anticipation, a dreamy look on his face. Pepper handed him a bottle of water and came to sit next to him on the shady sand.

"Oh I know," she murmured wistfully. "But Tony . . . there's a lot we'll have to catch up on. My God, I don't even want to *think* about what either of our desks and schedules will be like!"

"Delete," Tony grinned. "Some days I used to *love* that button."

Pepper shot him a dry glance. "Said like a true billionaire. I know Jarvis will have a timetable and a priority list, but so much is going to hang on the logistics . . . and of course the debriefings and press conferences and interviews . . ."

Very deliberately, she tried not to look down at her left hand. Tony picked up the water bottle, took a hefty swig, and then cocked his head. "Do you hear something?"

She did. A faint, familiar noise, getting louder. Pepper rose to her feet and trotted out of the shade of the gazebo, hand over her eyes as she looked up, scanning the skies. Tony joined her, his grin wide as the sight of a red and gold Suit rocketing along grew along the eastern horizon, getting larger, the sound getting louder.

"Jarvis, Jarvis . . . always good to leave the driving to you," he murmured.

The Suit came to a landing on the beach, scattering sand and sinking a bit as it touched down. Tony and Pepper raced over to it; she was faster and skidded to a stop in front of the armor, eyeing the spare arc glowing in the chest. "Jarvis?"

"Miss Potts, it is very good to see you are still alive," came the automated English voice with a tiny hint of relief in it. "You as well, sir."

"Back *at* you, Jarvis. There isn't anybody . . . *in* there, is there?" Tony chuffed, peering at the Suit with an expression of pride, curiosity and relief.

"No sir. I felt it wisest to sent it alone on my auto-piloting. I have, however, taken the liberty of having a few essentials packed into it," Jarvis announced. "And if you will remove the helmet . . ."

Tony did, fingers remembering the skill of unlocking it manually, and he reached in, pulling out item after item after item. A portable transmitter. A folding laptop. A first Aid kit. A flare gun. A laminated card with Morse code on it. Bottles of water. A survival knife. Tony handed the items over to Pepper, who took them in slightly shaky hands as she blinked back tears.

"Damn good," Tony murmured, trying to peer into the rest of the Suit. "Is that it?"

"For the moment, sir. The _USS Martinez_ is currently en route to your co-ordinates, and should be arriving within four hours. Colonel Rhodes is onboard," Jarvis announced. "Do you wish to intercept?"

Tony looked at Pepper; she blinked.

"No," he muttered.

"Yes!" she told him, voice shaky and overlapping his. "Tony!"

"Pepper," Tony turned to her, hands coming up to cup her face. Rough hands; callused now. He made her look into his eyes. "NO. I am *not* flying off and leaving you."

"Yes, you are," she argued. "Don't be stubborn. You could be eating steak in two hours, and taking a shower, and getting a haircut," Pepper teased gently. "And I know you've missed . . . flying."

"Fuck flying," Tony muttered tonelessly. "No terrorists here, Pepper, No need to get the hell out of Dodge. For once, can't we just stick to the plan?"

"What?" Pepper squinted at him, lost.

Tony shook his head. "Nothing. But seriously—the Suit's here, Jarvis can boost our signals through it. Not taking off without you, Pepperpot. Got that?"

"Are you sure?" she asked, twisting out of his hands and staring at the Suit. "I'll be fine, and you'd be seeing me again in four hours anyway, Tony."

"Not the way I'd like to," he smirked back. "Four whole hours. That's quite a while to . . . wait. We're going to have to think of something to do to help pass the time."

Pepper shot him a slightly disbelieving look. "You're kidding. Sex? Right now?"

"It's a celebration," Tony assured her, pulling her into his arms. The bulk of the laptop, first aid kit and flare gun made it harder to hold her, but Pepper shifted them to one hip, falling back into her clipboard toting stance.

"You are terminally horny," she murmured, but there was no sting to her words as Pepper grinned crookedly at him through her bangs.

"This should not be news to you," Tony replied sweetly. "Although given the claw marks on my shoulders and ass, I think I could make a case that someone ELSE in the immediate vicinity has an appetite for love."

Pepper blushed. "Tony--"

He pulled her closer, grinning. "Math lesson—can I make sixty-nine go into four, at least once?"

"In terms of actual numbers, no. In terms of me . . . possibly," Pepper sighed. "But we need to at the very least make contact with the ship *before* we . . . work on your, um, number line."

"Jarvis," Tony called over his shoulder. "Are we capable of voice link to the Martinez?"

"We are."

"Hook us up."

A moment later came the worried tones of Colonel Jim Rhodes, amplified through the Suit. "Tony?"

"We've got to stop meeting like this, Platypus," Tony laughed. "Seriously—rescue me once; shame on me, rescue me twice, yadda, yadda yadda. Potts is fine—say hi to Jim, Pepper—"

"Jim, we're fine—" Pepper began, her voice anxious. Tony slipped his hands to her boxers and tugged them down; she squirmed, and leaned towards the Suit. "—and really look forward to seeing you. How close are you?"

"Still a few hours out. Damn it's good to hear you're both okay," Jim bellowed back. "You okay? In good hands?"

It was an unfortunate choice of words, since Tony's hands were cupping Pepper's bare bottom in a very possessive manner. She blushed, and squirmed again, determined not to drop the laptop, but not exactly pulling away from him either. "Um, yeah."

"We've got some math to work on, Platypus, so we'll see you in about four hours, right?" Tony cut in. "No rush; it's only been three months."

"Yeah well you keep putting yourself in the danger zone—" Rhodey chided. "Sit tight, we'll be there as soon as we can, Rhodes out."

Tony looked up from nuzzling Pepper and spoke to the Suit. "Jarvis?"

"Sir?"

"You'll need to move the suit ten feet to the left to avoid the incoming tide. Keep the signal going, but maintain two-way radio silence. Oh, and consider contingency three now activated."

"Congratulations, Mr. Stark," Jarvis replied. The Suit powered up, rose and shifted the recommended distance. Pepper squirmed, attuned to Tony's ruthlessly gentle groping, but curious too.

"Contingency three?"

"Nothing major," Tony murmured, licking her ear. Pepper had notoriously sensitive ears, just like he did. Her eyelids fluttered, and the flare gun threatened to slide out of her pile off goods. "Just a little change . . . in tax status. Shall we go give the cabin a nice final goodbye?"

"Yes, "Pepper decided. "I get to be on top." She thrust the laptop at Tony. "Carry this."

"Ooh, yes, Mistress," he smirked, following after her along the beach.

*** *** ***

The only place flat enough for the helicopter to land was the top of Mt. Highup, and by the time it did, the full heat of mid-afternoon had Rhodey sweating as he hopped out of the chopper. He scooped both Tony and Pepper into his hug, hanging on to them, trying not to tear up, but it was clearly difficult.

"Stop it. Seriously, Tony. I'm getting too *old* for these search and rescue missions, man."

"And yet you keep finding me," Tony pointed out, grinning. "Two for two now. Come on, Pepper and I will show you around our humble little home in the Pacific. You're not allergic to shellfish, are you?"

"How about we skip the tour and get you two checked out medically?" Rhodey counter-offered, gazing at Pepper compassionately. She blushed a little at the intensity of his stare, all too aware of standing there in her bosses' shirt and boxers.

Tony's expression faltered a little; Pepper realized he was actually proud of everything he'd managed to build on the island, and with a surge in her heart, realized she was too.

"It's really worth seeing, and we have time," she murmured with a smile. "Please, Jim."

The pure gratitude on Tony's face was a joy to see, and when Jim sighed and nodded, the three of them left the chopper pilot and headed down the meager trail to the beach. Rhodey tried to keep up; he wasn't quite dressed for the hike, and his grumbles amused Tony to no end.

"Come on, keep up, Platypus—getting soft in your old age," he laughed, trotting on ahead.

"Don't make me turn this rescue around, Stark," Jim snapped. "Just because *you've* gone all Tarzan of the Apes is no reason to pick on me."

"Not much further," Pepper assured him, and helped Jim dodge a few low branches that Tony had passed under. "Humor him."

Jim nodded, flashing her a grin. "You've been doing it for three long months; I think I can take it from here."

Pepper laughed; it was SO good to have Rhodes around again, it truly was.

When they made it to the camp, Tony handed over a spare bottle of water to Jim and pointed out all the little touches around the cabin. Rhodes noted everything, more impressed than he wanted to admit, particularly with the fire pit and gazebo. His one glance into the cabin though, left an embarrassed pause in the conversation. Tony lifted his chin, and locked eyes with his friend, practically *daring* Jim to make a comment.

Pepper was about to speak up and break the quiet, but Jim simply shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. "Yeah, well, I understand expediency. So where did the water come from?"

The moment passed, and Pepper wasn't sure if she was glad or not. Jim *had* to have seen their rings—

"Waterfall, submarine aquifer," Tony jumped in. "We got lucky there. Um, with a water source, that is."

"Damn lucky, I'd guess. And you say this place was settled before? Because we didn't found any records that relate to the co-ordinates of the area . . ." Jim went on, and the awkwardness was behind them.

All three went along the waterfall path, and upon seeing it, Rhodes whistled in delight. "Gorgeous. Damn, Tony, if this was a tourist spot . . ."

"I've grown to appreciate it," Tony admitted gently. "A hell of a lot better than a dark, cold cave, that's for sure."

"Yeah, well I'm going to credit Pepper with keeping you fed and *dressed,*" Jim laughed. "I sense a very civilizing influence here."

"Civilized? Try *tamed,*" Tony shot back. "All in a day's work for the ruler you know. Definitely a matriarchal society here on Isola de Pepe."

"Meaning you didn't let him get drunk, run around pantless or howl at the moon," Jim murmured in a grinning aside to Pepper.

She blushed, and brushed a strand of hair from her face since in fact, Pepper remembered Tony doing precisely all three of those only a few days before. "I think we should be getting back . . ."

"Let me pull the fish trap up," Tony sighed. "I'm not going to leave it and have things die when we leave." Before Jim could ask what he meant, Tony peeled off his shirt and shoes, and dove into the pond, swimming strongly towards the waterfall. Jim watched him in surprise, his grin wide. When Tony was halfway across the pond, Jim spoke quietly.

"Talk to me Pepper; I have a pretty good idea of how things are between you two."

"Jim—"

"Rings. Sharing a bed. He's held back from putting his arm around you like, three times already. You're hooked up. Admit it."

He turned to look at her, and Pepper bit her lip before nodding. "Um, yes. I--it's . . . that way."

"Let me see," Jim asked in a soft voice, and Pepper held out her hand, giving him a chance to look at the small gold band. He eyed it and another gentle smile crossed his face. "Just a guess—he made it?"

"Both of them," Pepper agreed. "I'm not totally sure how, but you know Tony---"

"I used to," Rhodes sighed. "But *that* Tony Stark wasn't the committing kind. And back in the day, I wasn't sure he'd ever clue in about *you.*"

"Well," Pepper sighed, smirking for a moment, "I guess a big dose of enforced isolation and a lot of day-to-day survival sort of brought out some . . . insights. And then there's *Tony's* perspective to be considered as well."

Jim smiled again, but this one was slightly worried now. "Isolation is about to end though. Does that mean an end to—"

He didn't get to finish; Tony was paddling back, pulling himself up on the ledge and shaking his head, flinging water droplets everywhere. "No fish, but I wouldn't want any on my conscience. Okay, we're good to go, right?"

Pepper bit her lip again and nodded, firmly.

*** *** ***

Commander Hugo Holo, chief physician for the _Martinez_ was more impressed by his patient's general health over the fancy technology of Arc. He finished Tony's exam and gave a sigh, looking over the rim of his glasses at the man.

"Frankly Mr. Stark, if even half of the Navy had your blood pressure and resting pulse rate, the military would be a damn sight better off. Your weight's perfect, your muscle tone's good and I'm betting your blood work is going to be just fine. No parasites, infections, fever, dehydration— tell me again: are you *sure* you were stranded on an island?"

"I know fifteen different ways to open a coconut," Tony replied with a sigh. "And I have entire passages of Nancy Henderson's _A Guide to the Philippines _memorized, Doc. Yes, I was stranded. Fortunately, I had the best partner a man could have in those circumstances, so there you go. Most of the credit belongs to Pepper."

Doctor Holo nodded. "Optimism and courage; two of the reasons women are consistently good for us hairy savages, yep. Well as far as I'm concerned, you're good to go. Be very careful about adding red meat, dairy and processed foods back into your diet though—one item at a time, just to be safe. And I'd suggest you go damned easy on the booze."

"I've changed in terms of drinking," Tony mumbled, pulling on the _Go Navy_ teeshirt. "Even before the crash."

"Good," Doctor Holo replied kindly. "So go take a nice hot shower and a nap."

"I'll . . . wait for Pepper," Tony murmured. "If that's okay."

Doctor Holo shot him a look. "Outside, then. I'm a one-patient-at-a-time kind of doctor."

Tony cleared his throat. "She *is* my wife, you know."

"Congratulations," Doctor Holo murmured gently. "Now go sit *outside,* Mr. Stark."

Reluctantly Tony did, leaning against the bulkhead outside of the sickbay, trying to get used to the hum of the engines. The crew had clearly been given orders not to speak to him, and a few went hurrying by, barely nodding acknowledgement as they passed.

Tony nodded, feeling an odd sense of reconnection with the sounds of metal and motor. It had been like that the first time too, he remembered; that nerve-tingling transition back into a much quicker pace of life. It could make a person almost motion sick to adjust.

He hoped Pepper would have an easier time than he did. Back during that first rescue, Tony remembered being close to sunstroke; delirious, rambling. He'd had so much to say; so much to share about the terrorists, the weapons, Yinsen—

He'd been afraid of dying, back then. Of never getting the chance to change things.

Pepper came down the narrow corridor, escorted by a young woman in uniform. Tony could never remember ranks, so he simply nodded to the other woman, and focused on Pepper.

Pepper.

She looked worried, almost, and nearly slipped into his outstretched arms, slowing at the last minute and taking his hands instead. "Are you okay, Tony?"

"I'm good," he assured her. "No coconut poisoning, despite your repeated attempts."

That made her smile, briefly, and she squeezed his fingers. "And the rest of it?"

"Healthy," Tony shrugged. "Dropped a few pounds and I need to be careful adding some foods back, but other than that, I'm good."

"That's good," Pepper echoed, "Good. Have you eaten?"

"Nooo," he reminded her gently, "I just got out. Figured I'd wait until you were done and then we could go grab something together."

"Oh," she murmured in a voice faint with doubt, "Okay. But if you want to go and get something now, that's okay."

"I'll stay," Tony assured her with a quick smile. Pepper nodded and stepped past him in to see the doctor, moving slowly.

The escort walked off, the door closed, and Tony slumped against it, waiting.


	15. Chapter 15

*** *** ***

Chapter 15

_Tau mahi'ra e te iti kahurangi:_

Your work is well done, my little treasure.

Maori Proverb

Pepper let Doctor Holo examine her foot and gave him all the details of the incident. He nodded, and touched the red welts, his expression concerned.

"Well, Mrs. Stark, I'm glad you had some cortisone cream, and your treatment was good considering your situation, but for the record, you're going to have scarring. Now I'm pretty sure in a year or two you could schedule a consultation with a dermatologist and plastic surgeon if you like, but right now the injury is too new to cut into. It doesn't show much; does it hurt to walk?"

Pepper took a moment to recover from his first three words and blinked. "Only a little, at the end of the day."

"Understandable," Doctor Holo murmured, reaching for a prescription pad. "You might need some physical therapy, and I'm going to get you some creams to help reduce the scar tissue. We should do a blood draw too—any other health issues?"

Haltingly, Pepper brought up her Depo prescription. Doctor Holo shook his head lightly. "I don't have any here on the ship, although I can give you a prescription once you get ashore. To be honest, though, you'd be better off using another method of birth control and scheduling an appointment with your own gynecologist. Any breakthrough bleeding or menses yet?"

She shook her head, and Doctor Holo nodded. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a handful of condom packets, passing them to her with a direct look. "Depo, no, but these—yeah, we've got a *ton* of these. You and your husband are welcome to as many as you need, courtesy of the US Navy."

Pepper blushed, but took the condoms. "Thank you." It felt strange to talk to someone other than Tony; to talk of intimate issues like this. She cleared her throat. "Is Tony . . . okay?"

"Generally that's a confidential issue, but given your relationship, he's fine. I'd like to see both of you take some time to re-orient yourselves---you've been in isolation for a quarter of a year, and psychologically it can be difficult to readjust, especially someone as well-known as Tony Stark."

Pepper nodded, aware of the frenetic pace of life that had followed Tony the first time he'd returned to the spotlight. Then, *she'd* been the one to smooth things over, but now, Pepper wondered if she could handle doing it again while her own bearings were so . . . off.

Doctor Holo spoke again, gently. "You're both bright people who've been through a bit of . . . withdrawal. Take things slow and be there for each other. If you need someone to talk to, there are people who can help. Chaplain Ito, for one. I think both you and your husband are going to be fine, truly."

*** *** ***

They were with Rhodey in the mess deck.

The food was . . . overwhelming, Tony realized. He remembered how it had been the first time, and while he'd focused exclusively on cheeseburgers in the beginning, it had been hard to make choices for a while simply because there was so much to choose from. He looked over at Pepper's tray next to his on the rails.

She had nothing on it besides a glass of milk. Frowning, Tony caught her eye and Pepper gave a helpless little shrug in return. "I . . . can't decide."

Tony held her glance for a moment more, and gently spoke. "I'll tell you what—you choose for *me* and I'll choose for *you,* Pepperpot. You've been in charge of my meals for years; why stop now, right?"

That made her laugh, and they moved down the buffet line more easily after that. Pepper picked out a garden salad, a pair of tuna salad sandwiches and a bowl of vegetable soup for him. In return, Tony chose a salad for her, and a bagel with strawberry cream cheese spread. Impishly he almost added a slice of coconut cream pie, but Pepper gave a little growl and he opted for sliced peaches instead.

Rhodey had a steak sandwich and fries, shrugging and grinning. "Tell you one thing, man—the Navy's got *cuisine.*"

They sat together at a booth, settling into the meal, and Rhodey spoke first, his voice low. "Okay. Your signal was caught by Jarvis and relayed to *me* before anyone else. Turns out that your transmitter was part of a bird migration study funded out of Oregon, through one of the universities there. Because your AI could triangulate the coordinates, I was able to go to the top brass and get cleared for a quick trip out to find you guys. Without that signal, never would have happened."

"Remind me to fund that university's research for the next decade," Tony murmured to Pepper. She fished out a notepad and pen, jotting it down.

Rhodey laughed watching her. "Low-tech, but whatever works, right?"

"Blackberry on the menu once we hit Honolulu," Pepper sighed, and added *that* to the pad.

"Anyway, you two were *completely* off the usual Pacific flight paths. In a general sense Tony, your little island is south, between Guam and Papau, man. Smack in the middle of Micronesia, with about a million *other* little islands around you."

"Damn," Tony sighed. "Yeah, that's not the easiest searching ground."

"Tell me about it." For a moment Rhodey looked haggard and then spoke again. "But yours is on the radar now. We recovered your pilot's body, and we're on our way back to Hawaii—we've got about two days sailing, which will put us into port on Friday. You planning to pull any stunts there? Because this time, I want to know about it *ahead* of the reporters."

"No stunts," Tony assured him, poking at the salad. "Not really the time to grandstand, you know? I want to find out if Joe had any family, and make the appropriate visit. Oh, and buy the island. Find out about the Von Dressels."

"If we release the info that we've found you--" Rhodey pointed out, "The press is going to demand a conference, Tony. They're going to *expect* it of you. Right now the ship is on top security, but in this day and age, that may not last long."

"Pepper?" Tony prompted, looking at her.

She pursed her lips. "You should. Putting in an appearance will reassure everyone that you're back, and should boost stock, especially if you thank the Navy and reimburse them. And it wouldn't hurt to mention the point of the trip too. I'd hold off on that part until we find out how some of the mergers went, first."

Both Rhodey and Tony nodded and Pepper blushed when both men smiled at her.

"I knew you'd hit the ground running," Rhodey murmured, pleased. "You've got Internet access, so go for it. Let me take you guys to your cabins and you can get some rest. We'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

*** *** ***

The two cabins were across the hallway from each other.

Pepper couldn't sleep. She lay on the narrow berth bunk, trying to adjust to the growl of the engines instead of the susurration of the palms and lap of the waves, but it was too jarring, and too . . . steady. It felt odd and unnatural to be . . . alone, and the smells of paint and metal irritated her senses. Worry crowded in on every thought, and Pepper felt as if she couldn't shut down long enough to sleep.

She knew she was on the verge of crying; the familiar ache in her throat and sting under her eyelids warned her. Pepper fought it, hard. It was supposed to be a relief to be found, she argued with herself; she should be thrilled.

Instead, here she was, huddled up and miserable, wanting . . . wanting . . . .

A soft rap at her door startled her, and Pepper slowly got up to open it. Tony stood there, eyes lost and dark, his expression bleak.

"Can't sleep," he murmured tonelessly. "Without you. I can't. I don't *want* to sleep without you. Can I . . . come—"

He didn't get to finish. Pepper seized him, pulling him to her and Tony surged into her arms, the two of them locking hard in a hug that had relief, joy, desire, comfort and triumph in it. Pepper buried her face in the join of his neck and shoulder, clinging to Tony tightly, her sobs finally freed as she cried. He held her desperately, eyes closed, his own lashes damp.

"Love you," he whispered hoarsely. "Pepper, I can do *anything,* including coming back from the dead one more time, as long as you're with me. I just . . . without you isn't worth trying. Can't live that way anymore."

She made some inarticulate noise against his skin and followed it with a kiss, so Tony managed a wet chuckle. He turned his head to kiss her neck gently too. "You know what was driving me crazy? The thought that maybe, just maybe . . . you didn't want to be my wife anymore," came his broken confession.

Pepper pulled back and stared at him, her hair tousled, her mouth open in astonishment. "Tony?"

"It's true," he admitted miserably. "I *know* you, Pepperpot. You like to play by the rules, and if there ever was a time you might . . . reconsider things, it would *be* when we got rescued. And that would *kill* me because I love you so damned much and I don't ever want to go back to being Miss Potts and Mr. Stark just because we didn't fall in love in the public eye or stand up in front of some priest. Yet."

"I . . ." Pepper gulped, "I said *yes* and I meant it, Anthony Stark. I was thinking that maybe *you* were having some . . . second thoughts."

Tony blinked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Tony," Pepper sighed, "Loving you isn't ever going to change for me. It's been a part of my mindset even before the island—I think you know that—and even though the last few months have been the most wonderful, amazing, incredible time in the world for me, I wouldn't, you know, *hold* you to a proposal because I was the only woman around."

Tony cupped her face and growled, playfully. "Arrrrrgh! Pepper, I love YOU! I do not want any other women! *Screw* other women, in a metaphorical sense, okay? I love YOU, I want to be married to YOU!"

"Well okay then!" she shouted back, and began laughing because it was so giddy and ridiculous and sweet to have Tony in her arms again. He laughed too, sweeping her into his hug again, and this time Pepper felt relief flooding through them both.

"Bed," he murmured.

"Bunks are really small," she pointed out.

"You can be on top," he offered.

"Pffft! And you just happen to *love* it when I'm on top."

"Wife, just work *with* me on this win/win thing, okay?" Tony snorted, and scooped her up, carrying Pepper over to the bed. They tumbled onto it and settled in against each other with palpable relief, curling into familiar closeness.

They slept.

*** *** ***

Judge Henry Jackson the Third had moved from Malibu to Hawaii, all the better to enjoy good coffee and walk his Boston Terrier, Benny, on the beach. Judge Jackson was a lean, dry man with great mournful eyes and very little patience. He'd put up with the insanity of Southern California for almost too many years, and didn't miss it a bit. Not even when it showed up on his doorstep in disguise, as it seemed to have done at the moment.

There were three people on his bungalow porch; a bearded man in a slightly baggy brown UPS deliveryman's uniform of short sleeves and shorts; a full-bird colonel in tropical everyday uniform and a slightly familiar woman in a pink sundress with yellow pineapples on it.

All of them were wearing sunglasses and straw hats.

"Judge Jackson, good to see you; looks like a shift in jurisdiction is a good fit, yeah—" Tony murmured as he stood face to face with his one-time nemesis.

Judge Jackson blinked, not sure if he should scowl or not when he recognized the voice of the UPS man. On the one hand, Tony Stark had always been a smart-alec pain in the ass with a penchant for wasting time and delaying motions.

On the other hand, the man had been lost over the Pacific in a tragic crash and was presumed dead by most of the world for the last three months.

"Stark," the judge finally murmured in resignation after recognizing the man's most loyal companion, the long-patient and courteous Miss Potts. "Miss Potts." Judge Jackson didn't know the tall African-American gentlemen with them, but he did catch the insignia on the man's shoulders. "Colonel? I thought you were dead, Stark. What's this all about?"

"I survived. Again. Judge, I need," Tony began, pulling off his sunglasses and looking as earnest as possible, "your services, sir. I know in the past you and I haven't seen eye-to-eye on a lot of minor matters, including what the legal speed limit in Malibu *should* be, but I'm asking you to put all that in the past and see if you could find your way clear to, um, marry me."

"I'm already married, son," Judge Jackson remarked dryly.

"Yes sir, and I'm sure Mrs. Jackson is a lucky woman. Actually, I'm hoping you could marry me to someone else."

"Which one?" Judge Jackson sighed, looking at Tony's companions.

"Preferably the girl," Tony replied. "Much as I admire the colonel, I did ask Pepper first. He's here to witness."

"Do you have your license?"

The colonel held out a manila folder with papers in it.

"Rings?"

Both Tony and Pepper automatically held out their hands, and Judge Jackson noted the simplicity of the bands. He drew himself up and sighed. "I take it you're not here under duress, and you two aren't related by blood, are you?"

"Um, no," Pepper murmured, slightly startled. Judge Jackson gave her a crooked smile by way of apology.

"Sorry, something I'm required by law to ask, Miss Potts. All right then, come on through to the back yard and we'll see about getting this done then." He ushered them in, adding, "I'll waive my usual fee, Stark, if you promise never to darken my door again."

"Guaranteed, Judge," Tony grinned.

*** *** ***

The ceremony was simple and short; Judge Jackson wasn't a man to draw the matter out unnecessarily. Despite the brevity of the service though, there was a rare sweetness to it as they all stood in the shade of the big Banyan tree with the wind chimes in it.

Stark made his pledge and Miss Potts made hers, and although Judge Jackson eschewed sentimentality, even he couldn't fail to be moved by the sincerity of the couple before him. They genuinely looked as if they belonged together, and when he pronounced them married, it amused him to see Anthony Stark pick his bride up and swing her around gleefully. Sweet too, was the bubbly laugh of Mrs. Stark, who cried a little as well. Luckily the judge had a clean handkerchief to loan her while the colonel took pictures of the joyous couple.

"All right then. I'll get this filed online this afternoon," Judge Jackson murmured, accepting a peck on the cheek from Mrs. Stark and a bone-jolting handshake from Stark himself. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Stark replied, his voice slightly choked. "Thank you so very *very* much, sir."

*** *** ***

Pepper looked out over the sea of faces, trying not to blink at the sound of the cameras going off. Not as many had flashes, since it was daylight and the main foyer of Stark Industries was wide and well-lit, but there were still enough to be . . . disorienting. She tried to focus on what Tony was saying instead.

He looked good; hair cut, beard neatly trimmed back to his usual elegant goatee, and the pale charcoal St. Laurent suit and lavender tie highlighted his tan.

Having dressed him herself, Pepper approved.

" . . . Thank all of you for coming to see for yourselves that yes, I did make it back. Again. This really is one habit I need to break, this disappearing thing," Tony told the reporters, who laughed. The reaction seemed to boost his confidence a little, and next to him, Pepper looked down to hide her own small smirk.

"Anyway, to the point, I'd like to take a moment to commend my former pilot, Joe Mueller, for his extraordinary skill and courage in getting us safely to the island, even at the cost of his own life. Neither Pepper nor I will ever forget that sacrifice," Tony murmured quietly.

The room went respectfully silent for a moment, and as it passed, Tony spoke again, his voice low, but strong. "I'd also like to thank the Navy, and specifically the crew of the _USS Martinez_, who brought us back to civilization, and even *more* specifically, the Pacific Migratory Bird Project out of Churchwell University, Oregon, whose transmitter made the rescue even possible. See? It pays to go to college, kids. Stay in school and you too might . . . rescue a billionaire."

More laughter. Pepper slipped her hand into Tony's, receiving a reassuring squeeze from him as she braced herself for the bombshell he was about to drop.

"Trust me, I'm funding them for the next couple of decades," he admitted. "So . . . that's pretty much it. In conclusion, I'd like to say that on behalf of myself and my darling wife, we're definitely glad to be back. Thank you," Tony finished, and slipped his arm around Pepper, herding her off the platform, blithely ignoring the startled uproar that filled the foyer of Stark Industries HQ.

**Epilog**

The plane began to lose altitude; through the cabin window, the green jewel of the island rose above the blue Pacific.

"Are we close?"

"Yes."

"Will we get to go swimming right away?"

"We should unpack first," Pepper murmured, looking over at where Tony sat stretched out on the velour recliner seat, arms securely around the sleeping toddler on his chest, both of them snoring slightly.

"Mom, is it really true dad saved you from a deadly giant six-legged monster with HUGE pinchers?"

Pepper stopped braiding her daughter's hair and looked around her shoulder into her earnest face. The eight year old had her father's hair, dark and wavy, and freckles across her nose.

"Gwen, what have I told you about dad's version of things?"

"That he . . . exaggerates?" Gwen replied, a little doubtfully.

From across the cabin of the plane, Tony laughed, eyes still closed. "Objection!"

"Tony," Pepper smirked, carefully returning to the braiding. "Giant? Deadly?"

"He was a *huge* coconut crab. We could have put a saddle on him and ridden him around Isola de Pepe," Tony asserted, opening his eyes and winking at his daughter, who giggled. "And your mom screamed so loudly when she first saw him that people in *Africa* heard her."

Pepper snorted, trying to look annoyed and not really succeeding.

"How come you didn't just get in your Suit and stomp him?" Gwen wanted to know. "You could have mashed him flat!"

"Because we were stranded, and because I don't go making crabs into seafood pizzas. Usually," Tony replied, shifting the baby in his arms. "Gwen sweetheart, please take your sister to her seat and tell Mrs. Kingston to strap her in because we're getting ready to land."

"Okay!" Gwen scooped up the semi-sleeping toddler and carried her down the aisle to the second cabin. Tony waited until the girl left, then shifted out of his seat and came over to Pepper, slipping arms around her and kissing her shoulder. "You look cute—wanna come with me to a tropical island and get into my shorts?"

"Oh I don't know—aren't you worried I'll scream so loudly people in *Africa* will hear me?" Pepper murmured in mock-petulance, arching her neck to give him better access. He kissed his way up to her ear.

"Pepperpot," Tony laughed, "I'm *counting* on it."

She laughed, turning in his grasp and kissing him lightly. "Yes, you *would,* wouldn't you?"

"My yearly vacation goal," he admitted. "Take you and the girls to the island, have fun in the sun during the days, then leave them with Mrs. Kingston while we head off and . . . go native for the nights."

"Um hmm," Pepper agreed softly. "The best sort of vacation. Our own little cabana amid the copra."

Tony snorted. "That's terrible. Seriously? Cabana in the copra? Think of it more as our palace in the pacific, or our mansion in Micronesia. Something more, you know, upscale and not so Barry Manilow."

"Tony," Pepper sighed, kissing him lightly once more, "Go get your seatbelt on."

End.


End file.
